Master of Makers
by srifette
Summary: "Tell me the tale of the warrior woman Hailing from a world away. Not solely maker, not solely human, But the girl who came to save. In the darkest of nights, Her name alone is the candle and the flame. She wields in her hand a beacon of light To torch these blackened days." Upon her return to the Maker's Realm Sarah quickly learns that she has become the subject of legend. With
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth

REST IN PEACE David Bowie...It's a terrible tragedy...but I will continue to honor your memory through fanfiction.

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Chapter One

 _Seasons Change_

15 maker days ago…

From where she lay cradled in his arms, Jareth could feel Sarah's warm breath tickling his chest. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her body against his as he swept away the wild brown locks hiding her sleeping eyes.

He smiled, this was it. This was his dream.

Jareth had been a Maker of Dreams for almost a century, but never had he paused to reflect on his own heart's desire. He had never dared to dream but had only contented himself in delivering enchanted worlds to other human dreamers.

But now, wrapped in his arms, he possessed the body and soul of his dream and her name was Sarah. The beautiful, graceful Sarah, with her feisty spirit and loyal heart. He pulled her closer, dearer to him. _I will never let you go._

She stirred in her sleep, the worried lines in her face had vanished in the comfort of his arms.

"Sarah," he whispered, his voice a melodic purr. "Tomorrow I will ask you to marry me. You will be mine, won't you? My wife?" His heart skipped a beat.

"My wife."

He marveled how two little words could bring him so much joy. Dare he venture further? Four words?

"Mother of my children."

 _Happiness complete._

The sun had begun to filter through the windows of the Keeper of Truth tower casting a halo of light over his beloved Sarah. Soon the cobblestone streets below would be a bustle with the makers of Jorg. The day was rising and Sarah began to stir.

He felt a flitter of lashes followed by a soft contented sigh.

"Good morning," he cooed, softly in her ear as he feathered a kiss on her forehead.

"Splendid morning..." She replied, through a contagious smile. "Can we just pause time?"

Sarah propped herself up, staring into Jareth's mismatched eyes.

"My sentiments exactly."

"Let's just stay this way forever." She nestled closer to Jareth.

 _Forever?_ There it was. _The sweetest word of all._

"Forever?" Jareth said with a smile.

He cupped Sarah's face in the palm of his hands, "Forever would be a dream come true."

Today…

Sarah felt sick. Her breath was labored, her body was wet with perspiration and the world around her seemed to be spinning. Her stomach lurched violently; she wanted to vomit. Right there where she stood in the devastated Xumena she wanted to empty all the shock pulsing through her system onto the wrecked ground. Could it be real? Could she trust her own eyes? Another wave of nausea sent her reeling forward, bending over at the waste. _It's not real. It can't be real._ Shards of glass cracked under her shifting weight. _Sounds real,_ she thought as she heaved onto the rubble below. She couldn't be in Xumena. She must have taken a wrong turn. But her attempt to fool herself was as shallow and empty as her stomach now felt.

Xumena had been decimated.

The silver domes had been demolished leaving the streets blanketed with mountains of grey debris. In each direction Sarah looked all she could see was devastation. She tried desperately to find her bearings. Where were all the makers? Where was Jeminy? Where was the train station? Sarah carefully lifted and planted her heavy legs, one dreaded step after another to the highest point on the largest mound. Managing to stand, she peered over the wreckage below. She could make out the gates that had housed the Mortal Embassy among the stainless steel sea. Within the gates the large needle like structure had poured into the ground, sinking beneath the surface as if it had melted into the earth. She shuttered. There, where the Embassy once stood erect and proud, was a giant form of the letter B protruding from a pool of glossy silver. Sarah pulled away abruptly, forgetting her footing and wedging her ankle between two hard surfaces. The brisk movement caused her to lose her balance and fall flatly on her side, twisting her ankle as she ripped herself from the silver mound. The searing pain that now emanated from her freed foot was quickly brushed aside. Once again, Sarah found herself questioning the validity of own sight. She couldn't have seen what she thought she saw. Though she wouldn't dare to let herself check. _The Brotherhood is evil but they are not capable of that._ _They couldn't…_ Sarah stopped and stared at the surrounding nightmare, allowing the reality to sink into her bones. _The Brotherhood did this. They destroyed Xumena…and they…they…_ but she couldn't get the thought out. Thinking about it would make it real. But ignoring it would be a travesty. She gritted her teeth, anger seething through the gaps. _They used the bodies of Makers to sign their handiwork._

 _A giant B of Maker bodies._

Vomit. Again.

She pulled herself up, limping quietly and carefully through the hills and valleys of destruction. She had to get to Jeminy. She tried not to consider the fact that she had yet to see a live maker since entering the Maker's Realm. She clung to hope that Jeminy was safe. _How did this happen? When did this happen_? Sarah had only been in the Human Realm for a few days; that was only a couple of weeks in Maker's time. How could things have changed so quickly, so drastically? She thought destroying Olina's Speck of Dust had been a large blow for the Brotherhood. Was this retaliation? Did the destruction spread beyond Xumena? The questions continued to reel through Sarah's mind while the worry and fear drove her forward through the rubble. When she reached the peak of a small mound Sarah sighed in relief. The train station had remained intact, and Sarah could make out someone in the distance ducking into the dome.

"Jeminy!" Sarah exclaimed. "I'm coming."

But before Sarah had managed to set a foot in the station's direction she was reeled back by the force of a tall man pulling her down and out of sight. _Where did he come from?!_

"Get down!" he huffed. Sarah ripped away from his grip. She fumbled backwards before gaining her balance and sending an invisible punch at the man. He plummeted to the ground, his knees buckling behind him and his arm smashing into a pointy steel beam.

"Blimey!" the man shot through clenched teeth. "That's my making arm, I think it's dislocated" he said, fighting the pain in his expression.

"Stay away from me." Sarah retorted, hands up and ready for a fight.

"Is that any way to treat someone trying to help you, Sarah?"

"How do you know my name?"

The man stood up, dusting himself off with his good hand before setting his piercing green eyes on Sarah. He scowled at her, furrowing his brow.

"Stay there," Sarah spat when the man began to step forward. She shot electricity in her palm, to show she meant business.

"You've learned some new tricks," he said.

"Who are you? How do you know me?" Sarah asked hotly.

"My name is Knightly. I am Jeminy's son."

Sarah observed Knightly with obvious disbelief. He stood upright with a towering physique. His dark brown, thick and wavy hair crowned his square and disgruntled face.

"You are right to be wary." He said his expression softening. "Look, I am not the Brotherhood. I promise, I-"

"How do you know what I look like," Sarah said, interrupting.

"My father described you, and well, your attire isn't exactly 'Maker'."

"Prove it," Sarah said, her heart still racing. "Prove you are who you say you are."

"I can take you to my father."

"You want me to follow you. Without proof?"

"Yes."

"Are you mad?" Sarah asked, lividly.

"Mad? No, I'm not…angry," Knightly replied with a note of confusion. "But I am in earnest. And in any case, what choice have you got?"

Sarah paused, staring into Knightly's straight face. He appeared trustworthy, but nothing was as it seemed in the Maker's Realm. _Quiz him,_ Sarah thought. "You are Jeminy's son?" she asked incredulously.

Knightly nodded in response.

"Well then, if he told you about me, he must have told you our story."

"Indeed, he did."

"Then you wouldn't mind answering a few questions."

"Sarah, I am who I say I am. I do not have time to placate you. We have to go meet my father. And," he continued, gesturing to his injured and bleeding arm. "I cannot mend my making arm. Unless of course you would like to do the honors."

"I think I will consider it collateral," She said warily. "I am not moving without some sort of assurance."

Knightly's face drew tight in anger once more. "As you wish," he managed through a snarl.

"Answer me this; how did we escape from the dungeons on Olina's Speck of Dust?"

"You disguised yourself as Olina."

"What did the guard do to Ichabad's food?"

"He spat in it. Can we go now?"

Sarah, looked hard at Knightly's tightly drawn mouth and furrowed brow. This man looked nothing like Jeminy.

"The guard on Olina's speck…boxers or briefs?"

"Briefs."

"What color?"

"Pink and white."

Sarah tried to remain serious but the image of the guard tied up in his underwear sprang back into her head. She fought the corners of her mouth from turning up into a smile. Meeting Knightly's gaze she realized she wasn't the only one. His eyes were brimming with amusement. In that light, she saw him, she could see Jeminy's warmth reflected in Knightly's eyes. At least she hoped she saw him because her mind was made up. She would follow Knightly and hope that he would be as earnest as he claimed to be.

"You are Jeminy's son?"

"Yes," he said emphatically.

"Fine, take me to him," she commanded, eying a relieved Knightly. _If it really is the son of Jeminy, I treated him insufferably._ She winced at the realization and added a curt, "please."

"Please take me to Jeminy," she said again, this time with a gentler, hopeful voice.

"It would be my pleasure," Knightly said. "Follow me."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 _So this was the famous Sarah,_ Knightly thought, rounding a bend and heading towards his father's hideout. _Father believes she could save us?_ He looked back where Sarah followed close behind. Her hair was a disheveled mess, her clothes were ripped, she was limping and he was pretty sure her top smelled like vomit. And she was the messiah of the Makers? _Furthermore,_ Knightly thought, _she is brash and uncouth._ Why his father had sent him to find her was baffling to him. Regardless of what she had managed to do on Olina's speck of dust, to him, she seemed powerless against the strength and numbers of the Brotherhood. Knightly was only glad Sarah had found him and he hadn't lost precious time venturing into the Human Realm. Now he could deliver Sarah and head out to join the Maker's Apostles at first light. _Numbers,_ Knightly thought, _that is how we can defeat the Brotherhood, not by some silly, ill-mannered woman. Even with her so-called 'power'. She can't even heal herself._

"It is right this way," he said, gesturing Sarah towards the rubble covered trap door. He turned in time just to catch Sarah as she tripped on another piece of scrap metal. She grabbed hold of him tightly, trying to regain her balance.

"Excuse me," she mustered in embarrassment. "I must have two left feet."

Knightly let out a grunt. "That's my bad arm," he said, fighting the pain shooting from his elbow to shoulder. _Case and point._

"Oh no, I'm so sorry."

"Never mind, we are here. I'll get it fixed."

"This is it?"

"Yes, this is where we have resorted to hiding. Here, help me move this," he said, bending down to lift scraps of metal from a seemingly identical mound of debris. "I can't 'make' it away, remember?"

Sarah nodded dutifully, and swiped the air with her hand, the remains shifted revealing the entryway. She exposed a shiny dial on a small square metal door.

Knightly pulled the wheel counter-clockwise towards him. "It isn't much, but it's home," he said at the entrance of a narrow silver shaft. A soft light filtered up through the narrow passage.

"Now we climb down," he said. "After you." He studied Sarah's reluctant expression before donning a devilish grin. "Or not," he said and he boarded the latter ahead of Sarah. _Descending a ladder with one hand, not an easy feat,_ he thought.

Sarah looked about her cautiously before following him down into his father's bunker.

"Please shut the trap behind you," Knightly said after Sarah was in line above him. The door screeched close and the light from the devastated Xumena slipped away.

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A/N:

Dear New Readers,

Thanks for trying out "Master of Makers" For your information MOM is a sequel. To fully appreciate MOM please check out my first story, "Maker of Dreams."

Happy Reading...

Thank you HEW for your proofreading


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer : I do not own the Labyrinth.

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Chapter Two

 _Sarah plain and tall._

"Sarah!" a young woman's voice bounced off the bunker's intimate walls. _No, not so much a bunker,_ Sarah thought, _more like a winter chalet._ Beneath the steely remains of Xumena, Sarah now found herself surrounded by cedar walls and pine floors. A fire roared in a stone hearth. The hardwood floors were softened with bear-skinned rugs and red plaid blankets draped over a brown corduroy sofa and love seat. But the most remarkable aspect was the large bay windows framing a winter wonderland. Evergreen trees were topped in white caps as a light snow fell down from a silvery sky. There was a frozen lake, a doe, and red cardinals that flew harmoniously outside the cozy cabin. "We enchanted it," the young woman said, coming to Sarah's side. "Times are dreadful, I felt that holed up here I might slowly lose my mind. It's just a screen," she said, placing her hand through the window, the surface rippled, blurred, and then fell back into place. "My name is Willa. You've met my brother, Knightly, and my mother, Carmelis, will be coming out shortly."

"Where's Father?" Knightly asked from behind Sarah.

Willa's voice became a whisper, "He insisted on helping Trothe with the...burial... of the Makers." Sarah watched, Willa as she hung her head in sorrow. Like her brother she had dark brown, wavy hair. The mane was loose and fell to her waist. Unlike her brother, her eyes were pools of dark brown and they now clouded over with grief.

"Willa, we talked about this, you need to stay strong," Knightly said, lifting up his sister's chin.

"I know," she said, and then she turned to Sarah as if to excuse herself, "It's just I have never lost anyone before. Maker's don't die..."

"Yes, they do Willa. We aren't immortal."

"I know, but we live such a long time, and I have never seen death."

"Yes, you have, Willa. We lost our Great Aunt Heldar about twenty-five years ago."

"I was a baby, I couldn't possibly remember," she said softly. "But this, it's horrible. Death is so final."

"I'm so sorry, Willa." Sarah said, reaching out reflexively to the girl. She was barely older, but somehow Sarah felt the need to protect Willa. She wrapped a comforting arm around Willa's shoulder and turned to Knightly.

"How did this happen?"she asked, her jaw clenching at the memory of the bodies she had seen within the old gates of the Mortal Embassy.

"We aren't sure exactly. The Brotherhood just came. There were hundreds of them. And they demanded all Makers to come out of their homes, or they would destroy them. They forced us to choose between joining the Brotherhood and death. At first we laughed, we thought, what could they do to us in our own town..."

"But then we realized we couldn't make," Knightly added. "Something, or someone was stopping us from defending ourselves. We were outnumbered, and outsmarted."

"How did you escape?"

"My father created a diversion," a voice chimed in from behind Sarah. Sarah turned to see an older woman with wavy, silver hair pulling up beside her. "Hello, Sarah," she began. Her eyes were puffy and red as she turned the dark saucers on Sarah. "I am Carmelis, Jeminy's wife. He has told us much about you. We are so pleased you are finally here. You must have many questions."

"Hello," Sarah began, "I am sorry we are meeting under such circumstances."

"These are hard times indeed. Please sit down," she said, guiding Sarah and the others to a kitchen table. "Could I serve you some tea?"

"Yes, please," Sarah said, suddenly aware of how thirsty she had become.

"The kitchen is my domain. It's a strictly no magic zone. I like the gratification of doing things the hard way." She moved to the kitchen sink filling up a tea kettle, before placing it on a small grill above the fire. "It is something my father taught me. The harder the task, the greater the sense of accomplishment," she stopped, taking in an uncomfortable breath. " _Was_ something he taught me."

"Your father didn't make it?" Sarah asked with a sympathetic voice.

"No," the woman said, her eyes failing to meet hers. "He started a physical riot so we could escape. He knew it was a death sentence, but he believed Xumena would need us alive. He said that Jeminy knew you, and that you would need us to help you."

"Me?" Sarah asked, dumbfounded.

"You don't know you're a legend here?" asked Willa, hugging her mother.

"Legend is quite a bit exaggerated."

"That's enough Knightly. Think what you will, but your grandfather sacrificed his own life believing it's true. I don't want to hear him contradicted. Not now, not in this household."

"Of course, Mother. I'm sorry," Knightly said with a sincere expression.

"But I don't understand," Sarah said. "It's only been a few weeks since I left the Makers Realm."

"That may be so, but your coming has been prophesized for centuries."

"I'm sorry...PROPHESIZED?" Sarah asked, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

"Yes. When I was a little girl we were already singing about you," Carmelis said matter-of-factly.

Willa nodded her head emphatically, "And that's about six hundred years ago."

"I don't know what to say. Are you sure?" Sarah said, her mouth still open in shock. _This is ridiculous, right?_ "I mean, I don't want to question your father's beliefs..." _Oh God, this is awkward._

"Then don't, Sarah. Just listen," Carmelis interrupted, her voice was gentle but direct. She looked at her daughter and the two began to sing:

Tell me the tale of the warrior woman

Hailing from a world away.

Not solely maker, not solely human,

But the girl who will come to save.

In the darkest of nights,

Her name alone is the candle and the flame.

She wields in her hand a beacon of light

To torch these blackened days.

"And that's me?" Sarah asked, warily.

"Not solely maker, not solely human. And you have come to save?" Carmelis asked. "Here is your tea, dear," she said pouring Sarah a small cup.

"Thank you," she said with a confused air. "Yes, I have come to try and take down the Brotherhood. It's my own personal vendetta, I never thought to lead the Maker people, or right their injustice. I'm not a hero...I just want them to pay, for what they have done to me, and my mother."

"And Jareth of Jorg," Knightly added.

"Yes. For him! The Brotherhood has taken those dearest to me. I want justice." She swallowed, a lump before staring incredulously at the three makers before her.

"But I don't even know where to begin. And I don't know if I can succeed. The song couldn't possibly be about me. I'm just...just plain...Sarah. And the song, it could be about some other woman a hundred years from today..."

"If these aren't blackened days I can't imagine what else would be," Carmelis said flatly.

"I believe it's you, Sarah, even if you don't want to admit it yet. You will in time."

Sarah watched Willa as she smiled confidently at her. Willa was so sure of herself that Sarah felt her heart would explode. It was too much to think about. How could she accept the responsibility of the lives of every maker in the Makers Realm? She just couldn't. She had so much more to learn, she thought to herself as she looked down at her beaten body and worn clothes. She had vomited at the sight of destruction. She couldn't walk without injuring herself. She didn't even know how to heal herself. How could she be this warrior woman?

"I...I...don't know what to say," she locked her eyes on her cup of tea, afraid of offending Jeminy's wife or children.

"Don't say anything yet, dear," Carmelis said, placing a comforting warm hand on Sarah's.

"Just drink your tea." She smiled gently, before looking worriedly up to the bunker's ladder. "It's getting cold."

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A/N: Thank you HEW...and thank you readers...


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth

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Chapter Three

 _Dangers Untold._

The cabin shook with a large metallic thud, followed by the trudging of hurried feet down the shaft and into the cabin where Sarah stood warming herself by the fire.

"Hurry," a man's thick voice resonated throughout the bunker. "Help me to lie him down on the sofa. Carmelis bring us those cushions to elevate his leg."

"He's a lost a lot of blood," another man's voice chimed in. The two men barging in had ebony skin with shocking white hair. Sandwiched between them, they supported the weight of a third man, whose face was contorted in pain. The man's head pivoted weakly around before landing squarely on Sarah. _Jeminy,_ Sarah gasped _._ Their voices were low and tense, and their expressions portrayed the same urgency. "We managed to slow down the flow but..." the man continued, lowering the weight of a barely conscious Jeminy on to the cleared sofa.

"Jeminy! Oh heavens! What happened?" Carmelis managed her eyes ablaze, as she obediently piled pillows under Jeminy's bare blood soaked leg. "Why didn't you heal him, Trothe?!" She waved her hand emphatically over Jeminy's leg. The blood receded, exposing a large deep gash just above the right knee; the tear in his flesh was neat and long stretching diagonally to just below his hip. The men had tightly knotted fabric just above wound.

"I'm sorry, Carmelis-"

"Papa?!" Willa exclaimed at Jeminy's side. "Can you hear me?"

Sarah stood back, alert and ready to make. _Make what?!_ Every cell in her body was aching to move and do something, anything. _But what could she do? Jeminy is gravely injured and I don't know what I can do to help._ She stared at the laceration on his leg with such intensity, willing the skin to mend itself. But nothing happened.

 _And they think I am the answer to their prayers?_

"His pulse is very slow," Knightly said, feeling his father's wrist.

Jeminy let out a low guttural grunt before his eye lids gave way once again.

Carmelis stroked her husband's face, "Stay with us, honey!"

Jeminy eyes fluttered opened, trying to focus on his distraught wife.

"Willa, help him...you are the best healer here." Knightly demanded his sister. Willa ran both her hands over Jeminy's wound with a blatant urgency. She winced, paused, scrunched her eyes in determination and tried again and again.

"Why won't it heal?!" she implored. "He just keeps bleeding."

"Let me try," Knightly said, but found himself equally incapable.

Trothe looked solemnly at Jeminy's family, "That's what I wanted to explain. We tried healing him..."

"The wound is maker proof," his companion added.

"How is that possible?" Carmelis asked, horrified.

"The Brotherhood has yet another horrific trick to kick us while we are down," Trothe said, with disgust.

"This is more than a kick," Knightly added curtly. "The Brotherhood means to annihilate us."

"What are we supposed to do if we can't make?" Willa asked, her eyes flooding in tears. "Papa," she said again. "Please...talk to me..."

"I think we need to prepare for the worst," Knightly said, staring at his father's tightly drawn face.

Sarah watched the five makers as they stood aghast, unsure of what to do next. Carmelis leaned over Jeminy, kissing his forehead and whispering in his ear. Willa buried her head in her brother's chest while Trothe and his friend hung their heads with a defeated air.

"He needs blood," she said, interrupting the silent scene.

"Who is she?" Trothe asked as if noticing Sarah for the first time.

"What blood type is he?" Sarah asked.

"What do you mean, Sarah?" Carmelis asked, a glimmer of hope reflecting in her puffy eyes.

Willa lifted her head up from Knightly's chest, wiping at the tears running down her cheeks. "Yes, exactly! I think I remember reading something about this in one of our making anatomy books. It was a little breezed over because we makers don't need...what is the word?"

"Transfusions."

"Yes, it talked about the mortals of your realm, how they cure themselves using another person's blood."

"Take mine!" Carmelis insisted.

"Wait," Sarah said, "we need to know his type." And then looked between one confused maker to another. "Do makers have types?"

"I don't know." Willa said flatly. "What is a type?"

"Never mind," Sarah said. "There may be a way to save him."

"Then save him, please, Sarah."

"I am not at all sure if it will work. There are many factors that must be in our favour."

"Is it safe?" Knightly asked.

"No. I mean it could be if I were a doctor, but..."

"Try it, please! Anything is better than watching him die," Carmelis said.

"The wound is too deep, he has lost a lot of blood. I think we will need to cauterize his wound. That is, we have to burn his laceration in order to stop the bleeding and any infection." At least that's what the camping emergency guide had explained. Her father had had her and Toby review it before every camping excursion.

"You want to burn my father?"

"Knightly, please stop. We need to trust Sarah," Willa said, looking eagerly at Sarah.

"And who exactly is going to burn our father?"

"I'll do it," she said resolutely. "Whatever you need, Sarah."

Sarah breathed in a worried sigh. She wasn't sure of anything. Where she came from they had sutures, and antibiotics. Here they didn't even have Band-Aids. They needed medical assistance and not magical reconstruction of wounds. But Sarah was far from a doctor. Could this be any further outside of her abilities? She had never felt so incompetent. The weight of five makers' stares bore down onto Sarah's skull. She looked up at them with feigned confidence.

"I need a clean blade, or knife. And I need rubbing alcohol," she began, before deciding to make the rubbing alcohol herself. Would they even know what that was? "Never mind for the alcohol," she said. If she could only make a doctor.

She could feel the panic seizing her internally. Dowse the cut and the blade with alcohol. The blade goes in the fire...until red hot. And then...cringe...cauterize the wound. She concentrated on the bottle of rubbing alcohol in her medicine cabinet at home and it appeared in her hand as a confirmation of the impending reality.

"You might get him something to bite down on," Sarah said to Carmelis. Carmelis dutifully placed a wooden spoon in Jeminy's mouth as Willa brought her a knife with a short thick blade. And after they burned six inches of Jeminy's flesh what next? Sarah thought. He has lost so much blood we will need to replace it. But with what? Sarah was half maker, and as far as she knew it didn't make her blood different from the other humans. If makers and humans could have children then surely their blood was the same. Wasn't it? Wasn't she proof of their identical anatomy? Or was she different? Sarah was O negative, the universal donor. Would that transcend realms?

She didn't have time to contemplate her decision. She closed her eyes and riffled through her memories. There it was - an eight-year-old Sarah who had fallen from the tire swing onto a jagged rock. The hospital was miles away and her mother was in full blown panic mode. Her father tried to reassure them both. Looking back at it now, Sarah could understand her mother's lack of confidence in the human the realm's healing procedures...it was all foreign to her, and must have appeared to be as uncivilized as a witch doctor to a brain surgeon. But here she was now, searching for the archaic remedies of the human realm.

At eight years old the jagged rock had left her with an awful leg wound. Despite the constant pressure her father had advised the cut had refused to stop bleeding. By the time she reached the hospital she had passed out. They gave her eight stitches and a transfusion.

When the doctor came to check on her the next day, Sarah had asked him how he saved her.

He said she was lucky. And then he told her the importance of blood. "It's our life force," he said with a grin. "Someone shared their life force with you." The curious and confused young Sarah asked how. Sarah could still remember the man's warm smile as he looked to her parents, "Future doctor?" He donned an approving grin and sat down in the chair next to her hospital bed. "First we administered an IV drip of saline, and then we followed up with O negative blood. We inserted a thin tube into your vein...see here?" He tapped gently next to the scotched catheter in her skin." "That's not blood." Sarah said following the tube up to a clear pouch. "No, that's something that helps your blood volume expand naturally. It's your general run of the mill saline solution." Sarah had no idea what the man was talking about but she had proudly repeated it to all her friends in school the following week. The event had left such a lasting impression that as soon as she had turned eighteen she began regular visits to the blood bank... to share her life force with others. She never imagined that she would be using the story for reference now.

Pouches, needles, plastic tubing, saline solution. Sarah was going to do this. She opened her eyes, turning resolutely to the others. "Knightly, please dab Jeminy's cut with this, it's rubbing alcohol. It disinfects," she said as she finished wiping the blade down. "It'll hurt. A lot. So you may need reinforcements to hold him down," she continued, eying Trothe. "Willa, listen carefully. I'm going to need you to act quickly." Sarah said, biting down on her lower lip. Her head was reeling. In a moment they would be playing doctor to Jeminy. _This is crazy._ "You will need to hold the blade into the fire until it becomes red hot. Be sure to wrap your hand with wet fabric, you don't want to burn yourself if the process. Once the blade is ready, you will need to slowly press firmly inch by inch down your father's wound."

"What do you need me to do?" Carmelis asked with an eager air.

"Carmelis," Sarah sighed, "After all of this, what if it doesn't work? I won't know how to tell you I'm sorry."

"It will work, Sarah."

"You seem so confident."

"I have faith."

"In me..."Sarah said flatly.

"You'll see," Carmelis said, squeezing Sarah's hand. "You're the girl who came to save."

Sarah watched as Knightly hovered over his barely conscious father ready to disinfect the wound. His hands wavered in uncertainty. One thing was for sure, if they didn't do something now, Jeminy would die. "I hope you are right, Carmelis," Sarah said a moment later.

 _Please be right._

 _For Jeminy's sake, please let me be 'the girl who came to save.'_

* * *

 _A/N:_ Don't hate me for leaving you hanging! More to come soon.

Thank you HEW for your proofreading and suggestions.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclairmer: Still don't own the Labyrinth

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Chapter Four

 _Have a Little Faith in Me._

The urgent whispers had suddenly stopped. In their place, a low rumble sounded from somewhere behind her. And though her eyes were still heavy and sealed shut, the darkness had altered from grey to black. Something was wrong. The heat of the cabin and the electric charge in the air had vanished. Sarah felt the weight of her body plastered on its side, flat against a hard and cold surface. Her arm was draped over the edge of something angular and dangled loosely below. Where was she? Where did everyone go?

"Sarah…shhh…keep your eyes closed," his familiar warm voice cooed in Sarah's ear. "Ah ah ah…" he said gently, as Sarah's eyes fluttered open. She heard it! There was kindness in his voice. She was so eager to see his face, to be wrapped in the comfort of his arms. _Jareth,_ her heart sang. All of her troubles could melt away at the sound of his honeyed voice.

"Jareth?!" she said as her eyes tried to make out his form in a pool of black before her, but the half grin she had so keenly awaited was met with nothingness. Nothing to see. And no reply.

"Jareth?" she said again, feeling about her. She reached clumsily, grasping into a black void. "Where are you?"

The silent seconds seemed to run for hours. Where was she? How did she get here? It felt as if she had woken up in an oubliette, or in the Black Hole of Creation. But then again the Black Hole was charged with creative energy she could feel. Here there was nothing but the sound of her own breath. Her heart was racing, oh no, _was_ she in an oubliette? Was this the Brotherhood's doing? And if so how did she hear Jareth's voice? She was sure she felt his breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes tight, trying desperately to file through her memories in search for anything that could bring her to the present.

"I told you not to open your eyes!"

"Jareth?!"

"It's the only way. Sarah," Jareth's breath was once again hot on her shoulder. "My dearest Sarah. How I have missed you." He stopped, his lips grazed hers. A speechless Sarah grasped for more, but her hands and lips came up wanting.

"Listen, you have questions."

"Yes," Sarah said… "Where are we? How do we get out of here?"

"You have more important questions."

"How are you here?" she pleaded, her eyes squeezed tightly shut afraid his presence would cease.

"Sarah, listen to me." She could feel him circling her. _How can he see me?_ _"_ You search to understand, or to find a solution, or to fix me."

"Yes, yes. All of the above." She nodded emphatically into the darkness.

"Where do you go when you search for knowledge in the Makers Realm?"

Sarah stopped as she realized his meaning. Had she really overlooked the obvious? "I am to go to the Hall of Half Truths." She stated, as if a piece of the puzzle was put into place.

"You've been there before."

"Of course. The Other Hall of Half Truths."

"Precisely, my dove." His steps halted before her. She could feel his breath on her forehead now, and then the warmth of his hand cupping her right cheek. Elation. Oh, if she could freeze this moment in time.

"I can't believe you are here. I've missed you so much, Jareth. If you only knew how much." The touch of his hand had disappeared and her tingling senses went numb. And like that she knew he had vanished. Sarah's stomach seemed to plummet into the ground below. What a horrible trick, she cringed, raising her head defiantly. She would not allow the grief festering under the surface to rise. She shook her head angrily. What kind of horrible place have I found myself in?

She reopened her eyes. The darkness had given way. And as she squinted through the haze of light—she focused on a familiar sight. Pulling herself up from a steel bench she recognized the glass cylinder form of Jeminy's train, which hummed quietly in place over Ximunenia. She stretched her legs, looking around her with a perplexed expression. Sitting across from Sarah, Jeminy sat watching her through his half moon glasses. He smiled kindheartedly as their eyes met.

"Hello, Sarah," Jeminy began, allowing her a moment to reposition herself on the bench in front of him. "Please, we only have a few minutes."

Sarah settled dutifully trying to bury her questions on how or why she was now on Jeminy's train.

"I'm listening," she said, focusing on the healthy and serene Jeminy.

"Take them with you." Jeminy said as if picking up a conversation they had left unfinished.

"I'm sorry, take who? Where?"

"Of course, Knightly will protest. He is far too stubborn to know what is best for him. He could never see beyond what is in front of him, and therefore he can only trust what he can see. But once you gain his trust he is an invaluable ally."

"You want me to take Knightly with me?" Sarah asked, thinking of Knightly's blatant indignation towards her.

"Willa. My lovely Willa. Well, let us just say that her name suits her. She has a will of steel, and she will not let you leave her behind. Protect her, Sarah. She is still young and idealistic… and inexperienced in making."

"Willa and Knigtly? You want me to take your son and daughter with me. It's very dangerous, Jeminy."

"Protect her."

"Jeminy," Sarah said, biting down on her lower lip. "I don't even know if I can protect myself."

Jeminy smiled widely. "You are stronger than you know."

"Everyone keeps saying that. What if you are wrong?"

"I'm an excellent judge of makers."

 _No pressure, of course,_ Sarah thought _._ She looked at Jeminy's confident smile wishing she could mirror his expression. Instead her eyes planted themselves on her fidgety fingers. _I am still not sure where I'm going or what I'm doing_.

Jeminy nodded, compassionately. "You need answers. Go to the Other Hall of Half Truths as Jareth advised."

She was startled by the mention of Jareth's name. "You heard him too?" She asked, with surmounting hope. "How was he here? Where did he go?"

"I do not know any more than you know," he said, looking about the steel rimmed glass train. "This is your dream, Sarah."

Sarah felt like her gut had been delivered a wrenching blow. "I am dreaming." The oubliette, Jareth's voice, his breath, his lips, the glass train, the aqua blue sky, Jeminy. Everything was nothing but her own creation.

"I am here by your making."'

"So you are a figment of my imagination?"

"No. I am as real as you are—I am here because you summoned me." So she was talking to Jeminy? Was she talking to Jareth before? "Please tell Carmelis not to worry," he said, leaning back with a withdrawn expression.

Sarah didn't like the sound of that. Why did she have to give Carmelis a message from Jeminy? Did it mean that the transfusion or the cauterization had failed? "What do you mean? Why can't you tell her, Jeminy?"

"I'm very tired, Sarah. There is a letter, here," he continued patting his breast pocket. "It's for my family."

Of course it failed. Sarah was not a doctor. She feared the response to her next question. "Jeminy, are you alright?"

"I'm marvelous, Sarah. How could I not be? You gave me your life force."

"Jeminy?" Sarah, began looking at him with renewed confusion. "How do you know about that? I never told anyone that story." She shook her head, clearly this was all her imagination. As if on cue, Jeminy's presence began to flicker before her. "Jeminy?"

"Go to the Other Hall of Half Truths," he said clearly, and loudly between flashes. "Your quest will begin there," he finished before fading out like the last embers in a fire. Sarah was dumbfounded, what should she do next? _Okay, okay. I'll bite, Jeminy. I will try and do as you say._ She looked around her, exploring the train her mind had created. _But how do I get out of here?_ Sarah stood up resolutely. She could feel the floor under her feet. She grazed the cool surface of a window next to her, leaning against the hard surface to examine the world below. Ximunenia remained a mass of steel wreckage, the devastation made her feel sick once more. _This quest,_ she thought, _Jareth is here guiding me still._ She placed her hand firmly on the glass, it felt so real. How could it be in her head? She heard the cracking of glass beneath her palm and shot back, stumbling onto the adjacent bench. The splinter in the glass began to spread, moving up and over her head, and down and below her feet. The shattering sounded all around her as she jolted up trying to gain her balance. The train began to disappear as the shards of glass dislodged and fell down to join the rubble below. _It's a dream,_ she said, reassuring herself. _Close your eyes and…_

"Wake up!" Jareth's voice sounded in the blackness.

Sarah reopened her eyes.

Jareth was gone, and she was in the bunker once more.

/:/:/:/:/:/

What a mess this was, Knightly thought, alternating worried glances between the two unconscious bodies beside him. _Excellent idea, Sarah,_ he huffed, _put your life in danger too._ Sarah had passed out a few hours ago during the transfusion. Willa had promptly stopped the flow while the others sat wringing their hands, waiting for one or both of them to pull through. He had bit his tongue during the entire procedure. His mother and sister wanted this. He cringed. It seemed so ludicrous to share blood. Was this really the human method? Burn his father? It took all of his strength to hold his father in place as his father contorted his body in pain. Not to mention that he had never heard his father raise his voice, let alone release that guttural cry before passing out himself. Knightly was sure that the scene would be forever scarred into his mind. And if his father didn't come through…his last moments would have been of torment and pain inflicted by his own daughter. As instructed by that imposter Sarah _. The one who came to save? Ha! Much good she will do us like that._

"Oh ye of little faith," his mother said, seemingly reading his mind. "They'll come through. You'll see," she placed her hand on his arm reassuringly.

"I think his color looks better, don't you, Mother?" Willa said, applying a damp towel to her father's brow.

"I think he will wake any minute," Carmelis said gently. "They both will wake and then Knightly can help her in her quest."

"Mother, we have been through this. I am joining the Maker's Apostles. That is where I belong."

"Your Father believes that the Maker's Apostles do not have the strength or experience required to match the Brotherhood."

"They are soldiers, Mother. They have strength and numbers."

"But do they have a stronger power? And what are numbers without well thought out calculations and strategy?"

"Trothe, Walum help me out here. Explain to my mother that the Maker's Apostles are not just throwing themselves to the wolves." Knightly said, eying the men to his side.

Walum looked at him apologetically, "Sorry mate, sounds like a family matter to me." _Coward,_ Knigthly throught, gritting his teeth.

"Trothe? Come on, you know this is crazy."

"Knightly, you've known me since you were a little boy. Have you ever seen me disagree with your father?"

"This is ridiculous. Have you all lost your minds?!" Knightly snapped, all eyes on him. "No, no. I know what this is. You have all just been through a traumatic experience and you are all grasping desperately for hope. You need faith in HER to get through this, but it is completely irrational. It's based on a nursery rhyme! Tell me, what has she done for any of us? I'll tell you what. She has put my father's life in jeopardy now, not once, but twice."

"That's not fair. This isn't Sarah's fault." Willa said, calmly.

"Fine, and the last time? If he hadn't taken her on his train he wouldn't have been abducted in the first place."

"She risked her life to save him."

"She was saving her mother," Knightly retorted angrily. "Don't be fooled. Sarah doesn't care about any of us. She is on this mission for one reason. To save Jareth of Jorg. After she fails with that, she will probably just head back to human realm and forget we ever existed. We don't matter." His captivated audience stared back at him with a look of silent opposition. "We. Don't. Matter."

"Yes, you do," a weak voice broke through the following silence.

Knightly watched as all the makers pivoted their attention to where Sarah lay.

 _Great,_ he thought. _Impeccable timing._

"Sarah!" Willa said, bounding to her side and hugging her.

Sarah smiled at the warm gesture. At least Willa was glad to see her.

"Knightly," she began pulling herself up, "Carmelis, Willa… I have a message for you, from Jeminy."

"Perfect, and now you expect us to believe that you somehow talked to my father while you were passed out on our sofa."

"Is he alright?" Carmelis asked, caressing her husband's cheek.

"He says not to worry, that he is just tired. And he says I should take both Willa and Knightly with me."

"He said that?!" Willa asked, smiling eagerly.

"Well, he said I wouldn't be able to stop you from coming."

"Well you can stop me, I don't believe you for a second," Knightly shot back, crossing his arms defiantly.

"And he said there is a letter in his breast pocket for the three of you."

"There's a letter?" Carmelis asked, feeling under her husband's corduroy vest. Her hands returned with a thin envelope.

"Well, I'll be damned," Trothe offered with a smile. "Huh, Knightly? What can you say to that?"

Knightly stared silently at the letter his mother was opening with a conflicted expression.

Nothing. Knightly didn't know what to say. So for the moment he wouldn't say anything.

"Well go on, Mother" Willa urged, "What does it say?"

"It says," his mother began, her hands trembling as she unfolded the paper. She looked perplexed as she turned it over twice. Finally, she folded it up again slipping it into the envelope and handing it to Knightly.

"It reads," she continued again with a smile, "Trust in Sarah."

* * *

A/N: Thank you HEW!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: still not mine

* * *

Chapter Five

 _Brave New World_

There were two ways to travel to The Other Hall of Half Truths. Neither direction was safe. But Sarah felt it was better to remain on the path of known dangers, rather than venture through the Black Hole and stumble into whatever awful worlds the Brotherhood had manifested. She hadn't counted on taking anyone with her. She alternated worried glances at Knightly and Willa. The back of their heads bobbed slightly as they squabbled in hushed tones a few yards ahead of her. She imagined the dialogue was something like: "Willa, it's too dangerous. Stay here. Think of our poor mother." Willa gestured emphatically. She was probably defending her adulthood. "Besides, Father understands this is something I have to do."

Sarah climbed over a metal panel. She was lost in the sea of grey debris and she felt certain she had passed by this mound before. Knightly and Willa trudged forward seemingly knowing the way out. Without them she might have been circling for hours.

One thing was clear, Sarah felt conflicted - glad for their guidance, yet worried for their lives.

"I suppose it is futile to ask you to reason with my sister," Knightly said, pulling back towards Sarah.

"What can I do? I am not your sister's keeper. She is an adult, Knightly. Besides, Jeminy said—"

"'Jeminy said…' Yeah, so you say. I, frankly, don't believe you."

"Then how do you explain the letter?" Willa retorted in Sarah's defense.

The two makers had slowed down, turning their tense gazes in Sarah's direction.

"She made it, of course!"

"She made it in our father's handwriting? Come on, Knightly, you don't want to admit what's in front of you. This is what our father wanted."

"Well, it's not what I want."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Someone has to keep you safe!"

"Sarah is here."

"SARAH?! I am sick to death of Sarah."

"Well, get used to it, Knightly. If you insist on coming to protect me you will be hearing a lot about Sarah."

"Don't mind me," Sarah interjected. "Just pretend I'm not here."

"You are so pig headed, Willa."

"I'm pig headed? You are the boar of all pigs."

 _This is going to be a long trip,_ Sarah thought trying to melt into the background. Sarah felt horrible. She had unintentionally become a divide between siblings, between utter disdain and clear devotion.

"I don't mean to interrupt…" Actually she did. "Are we going in circles?"

"No, your highness, we are not. Flower Alley is just beyond that final mound of a decimated home."

"Please don't pay attention to my brother's tone. He is extremely protective," Willa said, apologetically. "So which way should we go?"

"I think it would be safer to travel through Maker's Land and to avoid the Black Hole."

"Safer? We don't know if other towns have been hit. Maybe they are even under the control of the Brotherhood. Walking into those towns without knowledge of what is to come is a suicide mission," Knightly said with condescension.

"So we evade the towns," Sarah offered. "There must be away around them."

Knightly rolled his eyes. "Makers Land is designed to avoid such tactics. Generally, travelling makers are presented to each town while travelling. Or they take the train. Either way their presence is known. It is the way things are done here. Furthermore, NMZ is made to hinder easy passage. It is one of the Maker's Realms assurances for the security of each town. We want to know what's coming and not be blind sided."

"It didn't stop the Brotherhood from coming to Xumena," Sarah said.

"They came through the Flower Alley. We saw them coming long before they arrived. But what could we do against those numbers?"

"I don't think it's a bad idea," Willa said looking between Sarah and her brother.

"No surprise there."

"No, wait, listen. Sarah can make in NMZ without consequences. We can probably bypass any obstacles when we go around the towns."

"Unfortunately," Knightly huffed, considering Willa's words, "I think it is our only viable option. But it will take a really long time to cross Maker's land on foot."

"Listen, after Flower Alley, and the Veil of White Light we have to cross through the Narrow Passage to Guidion." Willa turned to Sarah to explain. "You know how our world is like a figure eight? Well it's just like the Flower Alley and Xumena on the other side of the Veil. The passage begins narrow and widens into the city entrance of Guidion. There is no way past Guidion except through it. So we have to go through it. But the good news is I know where we can borrow horses in Guidion."

"And by borrow, you mean steal," Knightly said flatly. "So not only are we going to venture into a town not knowing what state it is in but we will also be discretely passing by with a few of their horses."

"Well, we will need help, of course." Willa said, resolutely as she descended the last remains and headed into the field of crushed flowers.

"Let me guess - SARAH."

"No, not Sarah! My boyfriend, Holyoak from the Guidion clan."

/:/:/:/:/:/

She couldn't move. She wanted to cry, yell or scream. But the only sound that slipped through Aris' lips was a low hiss followed by crippling silence. The last few weeks had been hard enough. She watched Jareth fall in love with another woman. She was poisoned and assaulted. Captured and crippled. She had lost all of her friends in the Black Hole. She had traveled back to Jorg to find that Jareth was missing. And Sarah and Toby had vanished. She managed to draw some solace in the fact that they had dealt the Brotherhood a huge blow. Olina's speck of dust was destroyed. And she hoped with all her heart that Jareth and all the others were safe in the aftermath. Hoping turned out to be not enough for Aris. She couldn't rest easy until her friends were all accounted for. So Aristotle left Limidus once more. She would visit the Mortal Embassy. She would confirm if Sarah and Toby were indeed in the Human Realm. If the contract in the Mortal Embassy was nullified, Aris would know Sarah and Toby had gone home. This sight at the gateway to Xumena was not what she had expected. She was stunned by the awful sight before her. Her limbs seemed to root themselves into the rubble beneath her feet. Never in her lifetime had she seen destruction of this magnitude. The town of silver domes had disappeared and in its place a salvage yard stretched in heaps and bounds in each direction. She had come to Xumena looking for answers. On arrival she had only more questions. She knew she should take cover. She should hide. Anyone could see her like this. The Brotherhood that was supposed to be weakened could be nearby. But she couldn't tear her eyes away from the wreckage.

"Aristotle?"

Aris jumped at the sound of the man's voice. She should have armed herself, wishing she had brought a sword.

"Relax, it's alright. Turn around, it's Trothe. Your sister Socrates' ex-fiancé."

"Trothe?" _Of course,_ Aris thought, finally finding the ability to move. _Trothe from Xumena. How long has it been?_

"We haven't seen each other for over fifty years. I realize you may not remember me."

"No, I remember you. You broke my sister's heart."

"I know. I'm really sorry about that." Trothe said, dodging Aris' cool expression.

"It's no matter now. She exchanged vows with a man from Bluizi."

"Oh. Well then, good for her," Trothe said with an awkward smile. "What are you doing here, Aris?"

"I should ask you the same."

"I'm from Xumena."

"Yes, but how do I know you aren't part of the Brotherhood that did this?"

"I repeat - I'm from Xumena." The two makers shared an uncomfortable silence before Trothe continued, "You think I would do this to my own town? My family, my clan?"

Aris could hear the disgust in his voice as his eyes lit with anger. She was bordering on feeling guilty. But then again, she hardly knew who she could trust anymore.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply…it's just devastating. The Brotherhood is managing to make us turn against each other. But we're better than that."

"Well, I won't turn on you," Trothe said, his expression softening. "Jeminy told us how you tried to help Sarah."

"We were trying to save him too. Is he alright?"

"He's had better days. Can we talk somewhere not so much in the open?" Trothe said, leading the way to small valley of wreckage.

"Has he been injured?" Aris asked, watching Trothe as he swiped his right hand over a particularly large piece of scrap metal. The piece moved revealing a large hatch.

"You can see for yourself," he said, rapping three times at the metal door. The door creaked as it opened and Aris peered in from a distance. There seemed to be a soft yellow glow emanating from within. "After you," Trothe said with a grin. He was having too much fun with this, Aris thought. If she refused to go down, it would mean she didn't trust him. But she didn't trust him. Not completely.

"Jeminy is down there?" she asked, stalling.

"Yes, and his wife." Trothe said, deflecting Aris' skeptical expression. "Look, I understand. You don't trust me. Under the current circumstances I can't say I blame you. But you came to Xumena for a reason. I am not an expert at reading people, but I reckon your reasons may have something to do with Sarah or Jeminy. Or maybe both. As far as I can tell you have two options. You can continue through Xumena hoping answers will fall into your lap, or you can take the opportunity I am handing you and trust me enough to descend that ladder. I guarantee you its more fruitful to trust in me."

"Trothe, the longer that door stays open the more likely we are to be discovered," a voice ventured up from below.

"I'm coming, Carmelis," Trothe said, looking towards Aris. Aris nodded reluctantly as she approached the bunker's entrance. "We both are coming," he said with a triumphant smile.

Aris tried to be polite and smile back, but her mouth remained tightly drawn. Once upon a time, smiles were easy for Aris. But so much had transpired since then. Now she felt like every maker she would chance upon would challenge her at a game of trust. How did the world change so quickly and so radically? She swallowed a growing lump in the back of her throat. _Is this what happens when we piss off the Brotherhood?_ She gasped at the thought - was Xumena's demise retaliation? Were she and her friends indirectly to blame? Aris wiped the sweat away from nape of her neck. Wherever she was heading now it was toasty, she thought as her foot hit solid ground.

"Who is she, Trothe?" a woman with long white hair asked, eying Aris with a fearful regard.

 _Trust is a commodity in this world now,_ Aris thought.

"She's Aristotle from the Limidus clan."

"Aristotle? Why didn't you say so sooner?" the woman said, turning towards Aris with a much altered expression. "My dear Aris, I should have guessed by those red locks alone." The woman beamed at Aris as she strode over and enveloped her in a warm hug. "Come, come. Come see Jeminy. He should wake up soon," Carmelis said, kneeling next to her husband. "I imagine you didn't expect to find us in such a state. It must be quite a shock seeing Xumena like this. Finding Jeminy like this,"

"He looks peaceful," Aris said, studying Jeminy. His color was good and his breathing was moderate. His leg was wrapped in bandages. "What happened to him?"

"He was attacked with something horribly powerful by the Brotherhood. We couldn't heal him with making," Trothe explained as he leaned against the entrance latter.

"Sarah had to heal him using human methods. She said she talked to him while they slept, and Jeminy said he was alright," Carmelis added, with a bittersweet grin. She stroke her husband's cheek, "Thank God for Sarah."

"Sarah was here?" Aris asked, surprised.

"She passed through."

"Do you know where she went?"

"Oh, they left a few hours ago for the Other Hall of Half Truths," Carmelis said with a sigh.

"They?"

"My children went with her."

"Oh," she said, trying to disguise her disappointment. "What about Toby? Or Jareth?"

"No, they weren't with her. Goodness though, the thought of Jareth traveling with her now in his condition…" Carmelis shook her head with a frown. She patted Jeminy's hand before standing up once more. "You know, it was very lucky that you stumbled upon Trothe. There are still members of the Brotherhood in the vicinity."

"So it's true? Jareth lost his love?"

"Well, that was the story Jeminy recounted. And Sarah said nothing in contradiction."

"I'm sorry to bother you with so many questions, but you see I traveled here hoping to discover what happened to all of my friends after we were separated in the Black Hole. And well, you seem to know more than I do."

"It's alright my dear. I suspected as much. If I have answers I will gladly help."

"Why was Sarah here?"

"Sarah came to try and save Jareth."

"But she left here to save us all," Trothe added.

"She and my children are on a mission to defeat the Brotherhood," Carmelis said, in a whisper.

"They can't hear you, Carmelis."

"We can't take anything for granted anymore, Trothe. It's a whole new world out there."

"Indeed it is," Aris said with a determined air, "but it's one I intend to brave. Trothe, do you think you could point me in Sarah's direction?"

"I'll do more than show you the way," Trothe said with a grin, "I'm coming with you."

Aris nodded in acceptance. She no longer had the time to worry about whether or not she should trust him. Her body was now charged with conviction and her very core was urging her to move. She knew exactly where she was needed. "Thank you, Carmelis," she said, her eyes twinkling kindly. "I do have one last request."

"Of course. What is it, dear?"

"Could you please tell Jeminy we are going to crush the Brotherhood."

"I certainly will my dear," Carmelis said, smiling back warmly. "It'll be music to his ears."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! And thanks again HEW.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

* * *

Chapter Six

 _Finding my religion._

 _How long has it been?_ Sarah thought, squatting down behind a mound of cut sugarcane. Pins and needles began to creep up her thighs. Willa conceded to the comfort of the wet earth, staining her ivory slacks with the soil beneath. _Sitting looks really good_ , she thought shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

"Sit!" Willa whispered with a laugh. "Don't worry, it's just dirt. Besides, Holyoak can clean us right up!"

"Oh, Willa," Sarah winced, realizing her mistake. "I am such a dunce." She concentrated on the feel of the scratchy wool blanket that was draped over her loveseat at home. It was the perfect size for both of them to nestle down on. "Making doesn't come very naturally to me yet. It seems I don't have the reflex." The plaid blanket appeared gently folded in her lap.

"That's good," Willa said, "Holyoak will love you."

"How so?"

"Well, because he is from the Guidion clan."

"I see," Sarah said, with a note of confusion. "That is supposed to mean something to me, right?"

Willa smiled apologetically as she helped spread the throw beneath them. "It would if you were raised a maker. Guidion is one of the clans that believe in Making Minimization."

"They don't make?"

"They do make, they just prefer to make with moderation. My grandparents on both sides were from Guidion, which is why you can see Mother and Father have chosen to age naturally. They have maintained some of their core values."

"Do the Guidions believe that making is wrong?"

"Oh no. Quite the opposite in fact. They believe making is the highest art form, and that to honor it we shouldn't abuse it. Holyoak says that if we make all the time it will diminish its value."

"I can see that."

"I can too," Willa said. "Although, I can't help myself. You saw what I did to our bunker."

"It was quite impressive."

"Thank you," she said with a sigh.

"Willa?" Sarah said, as she watched the girl's smile fade. "What's wrong?"

"It's just, I'm worried about Holyoak."

"Of course you are, Willa. It's only natural."

"No, you see, because of their beliefs they are an easy target. They are unpracticed in making. I mean, just look what we are hiding behind. And did you see the willow trees? And the reed marsh?"

"I'm sorry, you have lost me, Willa. What does nature have to do with them not making?"

"They use it. The willow branches, the reed stems, the bamboo stocks, the sugarcane, all of it. They use it to weave. By hand. Even the horses are used to haul the harvest."

"That's amazing."

"The story goes they even stole the horses from the human realm."

"They stole horses?"

"They are practically helpless. And every time I close my eyes I see Xumena… or rather the leftovers of Xumena. Imagine what the Brotherhood could…"

"Oh Willa, I know it's hard," Sarah began, wrapping her arm around the girl. "Knightly will be back any second. He'll let us know the state of things for Guidion."

"I know."

"So," Sarah ventured, searching for a distraction, "tell me what they weave."

"Wait, shhh," Willa whispered, stopping suddenly. "I think I hear someone coming." The color had drawn from her face as a new rustling noise came from a small distance away. She inched quietly to the edge of sugar cane mound, peeking discretely over the side. "It's two people. I would say a man and a woman. I can't make out their faces."

"The Brotherhood?"

"Could be. But they seem to be looking for something."

"Or someone."

"Oh no."

"What? What is it?"

"Knightly is coming back, they will see him. Could he be more obvious?"

"Maybe they won't see him."

"It's too late," Willa said, hanging her head. "They are heading right toward him."

"What should we do?" Sarah asked. "We should go to him. He may need us."

"He would want us to stay put."

"But he can't make."

"I know," Willa said, biting down on her lip. "Sarah? Sarah what are you doing? They will see you!"

"You stay, Willa. Your brother would have my skin if anything happened to you. And he is here because of me. So…I better see if he needs my help." Sarah stood up, massaging her numb legs before heading casually toward the three makers.

"Like hell I'm staying put. If you are going, I'm going too," Willa said bounding up to trail behind Sarah.

Sarah sighed, disapprovingly, "Willa."

"Sarah," Willa retorted with a stubborn grin.

"You remind me of my brother, Toby. He never listens to me either."

"They seem to be looking at us."

"Wait a minute," Sarah said, as they came closer. That red wild mane…it looked like… The worry in her brow dissipated as she stood stunned at the sight of the familiar face. Aris?

"Trothe?!" Willa exclaimed, as she picked up her pace.

Mobility returned to Sarah's limbs and she headed over to the group of makers.

"Sarah! I'm so glad to see you," Aris said, encircling Sarah in her arms. Sarah breathed in the familiar sandalwood scent of Aris' perfume.

"The feeling is mutual! What? How…?"

"I met Carmelis. And Trothe brought me this far."

"You met our mother?" Willa asked, looking worriedly at Knightly. "How is our father? Is he awake?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Aris said with a frown.

"We only left him a few hours ago, Willa. You see, you want to accompany Sarah but your heart is at home. We should head back."

"No, Knightly, stop it."

"I'm sorry," Aris said, uncomfortably.

"Where are my manners? I'm Willa and this is my brother, Knightly. And it seems you already know Sarah and Trothe."

"This is Aristotle," Sarah began, "I met her in Limidus. She was an old friend of Jareth's and…"

"We are friends, and allies," Aris added. "And I'm here to help."

"And I'm coming too," Troth added.

"Trothe," Knightly said, massaging his temples, "I thought we were joining the Maker's Apostles."

"Change of plans. We were lucky to meet up with you so quickly. I figured you would have been further along."

"We err on the side of caution, not speed. I had to verify that Guidion wasn't taken by the Brotherhood. Are you sure about this, Trothe? The Apostle needs able bodies."

"I am exactly where I need to be. And you are too," Trothe added.

"Knigthly, what did you see in Guidion?" Willa asked, cringing. "Tell me quickly. I just need to know."

"Guidion appears to be unscathed for the moment."

"Really!?" Willa said with a clap.

"What a relief," added Sarah.

"It's just a twenty minute walk that way," Knightly said, gesturing behind him. "We can find your boyfriend and get saddled up with…five horses. Maybe we should take some extra horses." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Our numbers keep growing."

"We'll make a believer out of you yet!" Willa exclaimed, springing ahead of the group. "Come on, let's go!"

 _I don't like this,_ Sarah thought, following Willa through a cleared path between towering rows of bamboo. _I feel like they have made me into a messiah. I have followers._ _And skeptics._ She eyed Knightly as he batted at a stray stalk of bamboo. _You know what, Knightly, it's fine. I get it. I'm a skeptic too. It's just…regardless of my beliefs, or lack of, I don't really have a choice_. _I cannot do nothing. So, I'll push forward through the bamboo, through Guidion, through NMZ_ , _through the Other Hall of Half Truths. Because frankly, the option of living with the status quo…a life without Jareth…and a life where monstrosities like what happened in Xumena isn't worth living. So fine, follow me. I'll take you all with me. Followers, skeptics, friends, allies. Wherever this road takes us, it has to be better than where we came from._

/:/:/:/:/:/

About fifteen minutes into their hike through the bamboo passage the ground beneath Sarah's feet changed. It was abrupt. One minute she felt the squishy, sinking earth beneath her feet and the next moment her foot was met with a rough, flat surface, which seemed to absorb her weight and propel her forward. She almost tripped on the unexpected change.

"Are you alright?" Aris asked.

"Yes," Sarah said, looking down to see the source of her embarrassment. "What is that?" she began, realizing the answer as she spoke. It was the beginning of a road into Guidion.

"It's plaited palm leaf, I think," Willa said.

"Huh…I would have guessed willow." She wouldn't have guessed anything. Sarah had never put much thought into what natural material made hampers, wicker baskets or thatched roofs. The path became clearer as the trail of dirt began to recede. Sarah could now clearly see the dark brown, tightly woven pattern that repeated itself down the expanding sidewalk.

"I only know because it's Holyoak's passion."

"Are those figure eights?"

"Double infinities. Good eye."

They continued on in silence ahead of Trothe and Knightly. Sarah hurried to match Willa's pace. The young woman rang her hands as she walked, apparently nervous. Not that Sarah could blame her. Just the idea of placing herself in Willa's shoes made her stomach do somersaults. The thought of seeing Jareth in this messy time and place... she found herself biting at her nails. Is he okay? What he is doing at this very moment?

"I'm worried about him too," Aris said.

 _Oh dear, insightful Aris._ _She always had a knack for reading me,_ Sarah thought as she smiled warmly at her. She knew this wasn't easy for Aris either. Jareth was her love long before he was Sarah's. Even if it was one sided. Sarah felt a pang of guilt as she looked into Aris' beautiful eyes. Followed by a moment of awe. _He chose me over Aristotle._ Next to Aristotle she always felt awkward and frumpy. Sarah's dark hair and green eyes seemed a stark contrast to Aris' red hair and brown eyes. She likened her to an exotic version of Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink. She remembered watching that movie and thinking, wow, red heads are so beautiful.

"I know, Aris. What a mess we have gotten into."

"Your mother really took his love?"

"All of it, it seems."

"We'll figure out a way to get him back. The Other Hall of Half Truths must know something."

"I sure hope so."

"And your mother? Do you know where she is?"

"Oh, I hope the Other Hall will know the answer to that too."

"And of course, how to defeat the Brotherhood," Knightly's voice carried up from behind them.

"Yes, Knigthly, that's a given," Sarah said, hotly. Even if she could understand his skepticism, he still managed to crawl under her skin.

"Wait, hush," Willa said, stopping suddenly. "I think we are here." She moved two paces to the right and stopped again staring into nothing. "Ready she said?" She walked forward and disappeared into Guidion.

/:/:/:/:/:/

Sarah could never have imagined the beauty of a woven city. Every square inch of the town was made of natural fibers sewn into intricate designs. The sidewalks, the streets, the houses, the buildings. Even the light poles were bamboo. The stems, the stalks were dyed bright colors and fashioned into rows of tropical bungalows alternating yellow, green, gold and red. She was amazed at the substantial thatched roofs, the thickly coiled walls. The surfaces varied by function; sturdy or flexible, tightly or loosely woven. Each surface was carefully calculated. Which material would they use, which technique? Makers worked in the streets, their attention drawn to their task at hand, oblivious to Sarah and her friends. Their expressions were mixed between deep concentration and bliss. Two maker boys chased each other with bamboo stalks. And a teenage girl sat braiding flowers into a young girl's hair.

"This is amazing," Sarah said. "I have never seen anything like it."

"I've started learning some basic basket weaving. And Holyoak is teaching me to make water resistant baskets next. I admit I am horribly bad at it. And very slow," Willa said. "He lives here," she stopped before a bright red bungalow with a large yellow porch. Sarah was afraid to step on it. How sturdy could it be? Willa walked up the coiled steps. "Don't worry. The porch is solid."

Holyoak had come out before Willa had made it to the door.

"Willa?" he said surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Holyoak, we need your help. Please could we come in?"

"Of course, come, come."

Holyoak was tall and handsome, and teetering between boyhood and manhood. He had messy dirty blonde hair and freckles peppered over his nose and cheeks. He scrunched his eye brows in concern and gestured the group in hurriedly.

"What's going on?" he asked once the group was safely in his home.

Sarah tried not to see the incredible décor - there were more important matters now. She forced her eyes to stop fleeting between wicker counters and fixtures, to Holyoak once more.

"What do you mean Xumena is in ruins?" the boy asked, aghast.

 _See,_ she told herself. _Pay attention._

"The Brotherhood attacked us. We were lucky to survive."

"What!?" Holyoak exclaimed, running over to Willa. He lifted her arms and chin, turning over limbs, examining her. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. Grandfather didn't make it. Father is unconscious. And I don't know about our friends and neighbors. It seems the Brotherhood took most of them. And…and…"

"They killed many."

Holyoak staggered backwards, feeling for a chair. He sat down as the color withdrew from his once rosy cheeks. He sat for a moment absorbing the news. Sarah could see the wheels turning, as he tried to process the information he had just received. Sarah, Aris, Trothe, Knightly and Willa stood by silently, trying to respect Holyoak's need to assess the situation. After a moment he looked at each face with a renewed purpose.

"What are you doing here!?" he said a moment later.

"Holyoak?" Willa asked.

"No, I'm sorry, Willa. I'm so relieved to see you are alright… but it was very irresponsible of you. What if they followed you here? My family could be in danger."

"Holyoak, no. They didn't follow us."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Holyoak, listen. Do you know who this is?" Willa asked, gesturing to Sarah.

"No. Should I?"

Willa smiled and nodded meaningfully at him. She came to Sarah's side, guiding her by the arm to face Holyoak and began to speak.

"Tell me the tale of the warrior woman,

Hailing from a world away.

Not solely maker,

not solely human,

But the girl who came to save.

In the darkest of nights,

Her name alone is the candle and the flame.

She wields in her hand a beacon of light

To torch these blackened days."

Sarah shifted uncomfortably. _I wish she would stop saying that._

"That's her?" Holyoak asked, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Holyoak meet Sarah."

Sarah felt all eyes fixed on her, as she gave an awkward wave.

"And this is Aristotle from the Limidus clan. Trothe from Xumena. And you have met my brother," Willa continued. Sarah sighed in relief that the attention had been shifted to the others. Even if she could still feel Holyoak's credulous stare.

"What are you doing here?" he asked again, this time the accusation was replaced with wonder.

"We need horses," Willa said. "We need to get to the Other Hall of Half Truths."

"You are on a quest."

"Yes," Willa said resolutely. "To defeat the Brotherhood for once and for all."

"I can supply you with horses. And I can help tend to them. Please, let me come along," he said to Sarah. Once again she could feel of the weight of the other makers' stares.

"No, Holyoak. It's too dangerous," Willa said, worriedly.

"I could say the same thing to you, Willa."

Sarah sighed inwardly. She didn't even know this Holyoak. He would just be another life for her to worry about. But she could see in his expression his sincerity. He believed his place was with them. Was there safety in numbers? It didn't seem to help last time she faced the Brotherhood.

"If that's what you want," she heard herself saying. He nodded eagerly.

"Well, let's get us some horses," Holyoak said, standing up abruptly. "We need to get out of here quickly. The less time here the better."

Holyoak headed to the intricately designed door, and Sarah was left wondering once again if she had made the right decision. Willa was right, these makers were unpracticed in making. They were masters of a skill. A beautiful, artistic skill. If it came down to maker combat…would Holyoak stand a chance? The further along she went, the messier this ordeal seemed. _Please_ , she pleaded, _let the Other Hall of Half Truths help untangle this complicated mess. I am in desperate need of guidance. Or if not guidance…I could use some of Willa's faith._

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you are enjoying the story please help promote it! Comment, like, or follow. PS- readers...what do you think? Time to see what Jareth is up to?

HEW thank you again for proofreading. You're the best. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: The Labyrinth is not mine...

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Chapter Seven

 _A place to call home._

Jareth was supposed to be home. They had found a very impressive place for him in the heart of the Brotherhood Head Quarters. It was a secret speck, cloaked and enchanted. Anyone who left was physically unable to mention its existence. It was the most inspired creation he had ever seen. Arriving in the speck of dust, he found himself atop a vast snow peaked mountain range towering over deep green valleys. A mist of low lying clouds rolled over the landscape below. The range cradled a large valley which rose gently into a plateau. There in the center of the Brotherhood's speck of dust was the actual and metaphorical root of their existence. A massive gnarly tree expanded to every side of the plateau. It's brown and black trunk was tangled around thousands of openings. Windows. Enormous branches shot up and over into the skyline, freckled with more tinted windows. The leafless tree with its jagged bare branches stood alone. Death black against the white peeks, unmoving, but a low hum seemed to emanate from within. The effect was eerie, and magnificent.

He looked upon the monumental sight with a perplexed regard. The cogs in Jareth's brain were hard at work; calculating and rationalizing. As impressive and powerful as the Brotherhood seemed to be – would he not be safer on a remote speck of dust? He knew a war was imminent, thus self preservation had become his most important objective. He glanced at his traveling companion. Isis appeared confident as he led him down a cleared passage. The truth was Jareth didn't know where he should be. Furthermore, he had already invested his time and energy with the Brotherhood. Had he not done their bidding when he had replied to Sarah's call? Of course, he had also possessed motives of his own. But he had willingly aided the Brotherhood and now he was being recruited by their leaders. Or so Isis had informed him. Jareth couldn't help but wonder - was coming here wise?

Isis had taken him through the tiny entrance at the base of the giant tree. Upon entering his eyes were seized by the enormity above him. As far up as he could see the trunk was hollow, with brown rimmed windows of all shapes and sizes rising up high above his head. Grey light filtered in through the glass, illuminating rugged cross beams that served as bridges between far ends of the trunk. Shadow and light fought for dominion over the large space which echoed with every step he made. Isis led him to adjacent identical platforms. He followed him onto one of the gated, raised levels, and felt the ground beneath him begin to move up. He rose up into the slowly narrowing trunk, watching halls appear and disappear from either ends of the platform. Undoubtedly, they were branches leading to somewhere else.

The lift stopped at another large opening and Isis turned towards Jareth.

"This is your stop. The code word for entry you can set yourself once inside. Tomorrow morning we will meet with the Committee for your assignment," Isis said, looking at Jareth apparently pleased with himself. "Oh, and I have arranged for a little surprise for you inside." He gestured down the hall to Jareth's quarters.

 _Very good,_ Jareth thought as he demounted. He was glad for the silence, Isis talked entirely too much. And he seemed to think very highly of himself for someone who has had two speck of dusts destroyed before him. Granted the last one wasn't his. But Olina had charged him with security. From a purely calculative perspective, the Brotherhood ought to cut their losses where Isis was concerned. But the Brotherhood had accepted his excuses. No doubt Isis had probably used Jareth as a bargaining chip as well. Isis was responsible for bringing Jareth to the Brotherhood. And Jareth possessed firsthand knowledge and insight into their newest, and perhaps most powerful, enemy. Sarah.

 _Sarah,_ Jareth thought, with a grin. His memories were very much intact. The last time he had seen her he had felt her hot lips locked on his. Objectively, she was attractive. And the memory of their embrace was not entirely unwelcome. It could be fun playing with Sarah. How could he arrange to see her again?

"Hello," a woman's voice startled him. He wasn't expecting company. His eyes followed the voice up to its sultry owner. A woman with raven hair and pale skin offered him a glass as she leaned seductively against a bar. "Jareth," the Sarah look-a-like cooed.

 _I'll give him one thing,_ Jareth thought, eying the woman's long legs, _Isis does aim to please._

"Welcome home," the woman said, her lips curled up in invitation.

Jareth eyes twinkled with excitement.

"Welcome home indeed."

/:/:/:/:/:/

Going down the other lift required special clearance. Jareth and Isis were accompanied by an imposing seven foot man. He answered to the name Hercule. Which seemed fitting, as the man's torso and arms were double the size of Jareth's. His thick hands were wrapped around a wooden staff not entirely unlike the one Jareth had lost when Terajh's speck of dust had been sucked up into the Black Hole. Why hadn't he made another? He had been distracted by Sarah. He cringed at the memory of his pining, weakened self. Of course making another would require his return to Jorg or his creation of a speck of dust. Jorg was out of the question. Though a speck of dust all his own sounded increasingly enticing. Why was he here again? The platform continued to descend into the roots of the Brotherhood's base of operations. The light seemed to be diminishing gradually as they sunk lower into the earth.

Just when the blackness had rivaled the likes of the Black Hole, the lift stopped. Jareth heard the planks creak beneath the hulk of a man's feet as he leaned forward and tapped his staff on a hard surface.

An amber vertical light slit through the dark and widened as a man's thin and sculpted face emerged into view.

"Come in, Jareth," the man said. He wore dark clothes that matched his slicked, jet black hair and a pair of silver wired-framed sunglasses covered his eyes. Jareth could make out a slight discoloration in the skin just above the man's right cheek. A scar pink and white before slipping out of view behind the dark shades. He looked severely towards Jareth, ushering him onto a small round platform. "Not you, Isis," the man said as Isis lifted a foot to join Jareth. Jareth turned in time to watch the platform seal shut on Isis' surprised face. The blackness around them looked as if it had swallowed the lift, and only a distant sound of grinding gears confirmed that the elevator had not disappeared entirely. Jareth had found himself on a round wooden platform surrounded by nothingness. There he stood alone with a strange man whose covered eyes seemed to bore into Jareth's skull. Silent seconds passed by with the man's grim expression looming before Jareth.

Jareth shifted uncomfortably. He knew it was a tactical maneuver by the Brotherhood. An attempt to exert power over Jareth. Knowing it didn't make it any less effective. Just when Jareth thought the moment couldn't become any less eerie, the man's mouth began to turn up slowly into a forced, creepy grin. His white teeth shined, brightly in the darkness. His mouth seemed fixed into place, and Jareth began to wonder if the man was real. He was a second away from poking the man, when the black clad man moved once again with a wide, gesture from his right arm.

"You must wonder where you are, Jareth."

"I am in the Black Hole," Jareth said.

The man's grin widened. Would his lips crack?

"Not only that," a woman's voice pierced the black silence. The woman appeared from the edge of platform. Jareth recognized her immediately as the woman in his room the night before.

"You will find, you can be quite happy here," another voice rang from behind him. A man with platinum hair and violet eyes emerged into view.

"Indeed."

"Jareth."

"You'll see."

Other voices chimed from the blackness around him.

The man with sunglasses held up his hand, and the voices stopped. He turned again towards Jareth.

"I know what you want," he said, his lips still stretched in a creepy smile.

"Do you now?" Jareth asked, refusing to let his nerves get the best of him.

"You want security."

"That is what everyone wants. Isn't it?" Jareth asked.

"Perhaps but indifference exposes completely our most primal need."

"Survival."

"Yes, Jareth, for those of the Brotherhood who have had their emotions stripped, survival remains the common denominator."

"Then yes. You know what I want."

"You are wondering," the man continued, circling Jareth. _Another tactic to exert his power,_ Jareth thought, in recognition. "Would I be better off on a random speck of dust when the battles begin?"

Jareth's silence was his confirmation.

"You also crave your freedom to make as you see fit. If you had your own speck of dust again you could avoid the messiness of the war to come—and have your liberty."

"Yes," Jareth said flatly, "that seems to be just."

"What you don't know to ask," the man stopped a couple feet in front of Jareth. His legs planted beneath him as he reached up to remove his glasses. "Is if you could have both," the man said revealing a deep ridged scar that traversed his right eye, sealing it partially shut. The exposed iris and pupil were milky white. "I have my reasons for wanting to end the tyranny of Makers Law. But to build an army is to build motivation within. How does one entice the unfeeling?"

Jareth tried not to stare at the man's scar. He knew it could be healed, but the man wore it like a private reminder.

"You get them where their instincts kick in."

"Survival, if I pick your side? But I don't want to fight," Jareth said, flatly.

"No, you want to live. Out there," the man said gesturing to the blackness beyond, "is the Black Hole, but more than that it is a network of speck of dusts sustained by us. You entered our speck of dust and you thought the tree was the center of our operations. And you would be right. But did you realize just how large our roots span? They are much greater than the surface we created."

Jareth looked around trying to discern the familiar but elusive ripples that announced a speck of dust.

"We have thousands of specks of dust linked here, your very own would just be one more."

"And you are prepared to give me one."

"With a price of course."

"What do I have to do?"

"Imagine," the man continued gesturing the woman from last night forward. She moved stealthily towards him, running a finger gently over his shoulders, reminding him of the role playing they had enjoyed the night before. "I know what else you want."

"I want something else?" Jareth asked.

"Lust is primal," the man said. "And yours is mixed with something else."

"I'm listening," Jareth said with interest.

"A man stripped of love often lashes out on what provoked those feelings to begin with. You lust what you hate. And you want revenge."

If Jareth had any sentimental emotions he would have been offended by his apparent transparency. As it were, he was amused.

"Bring us Sarah," the man said his smiling finally fading, "and we will make her your powerless human for your very own speck of dust."

* * *

A/N: Thank you HEW


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

* * *

Chapter Eight

 _A dream deferred._

 _The dream verses the reality,_ Sarah thought with a yawn as she fought another wave of fatigue. She batted at the low burning fire with a long stick, watching the little flames flicker blue, white, and yellow. She sighed, breathing in the cool night air. Her companions were asleep in the tents she had made. It was almost the end of her turn to stand guard. Not that she could sleep, she thought. No matter how tired she felt her brain was still in overdrive. She was worried. Again? _Still,_ she replied inwardly. She had felt a terrible weight on her shoulders ever since she learned her mother was alive. And now the weight was figuratively the weight of the world. The future of the Maker Realms depended on her. She shook her head. She couldn't think about that. Or Jareth. Or her mother. Or Toby. Or anyone. _The dream verses the reality,_ Sarah thought again, trying desperately to navigate her mind away from her concerns.

 _The dream._

One time when Sarah was ten years old she had taken Merlin for his daily walk. She had decided to change her direction when she reached the crossroads of Fifth and Main. She ventured down Fifth and vowed to only take the roads she had not yet explored. About twenty minutes later she found herself at the end of narrow gravel road surrounded by thick trees. The cul-de-sac had one opening where there stood a small wooden gate and behind it, to her surprise, was a horse. Sarah hadn't seen many horses. A few on television, a couple at the county fair, and once her mom had taken her to the circus. But here alone, in isolation, stood a tall and thin brown horse. His mane was tangled and he appeared to have scars carved out of his dirt covered coat. His tail swatted at pesky flies, as he stared at Sarah and Merlin with large gentle, brown eyes. The surprised Sarah felt her fingers tingling, aching to pet the poor beast.

"Stay, Merlin," she said firmly, dropping his leash. Her voice hadn't scared the horse. She was afraid her movements would. She walked gingerly towards him, locking his brown eyes with hers. Sarah smiled warmly as she managed to place one careful hand on the horse's muzzle. "Wow," she said softly, "aren't you a gentle beast. I think I will call you Beauty." At that moment Sarah had decided that she would befriend Beauty. Every day for a month Sarah and Merlin came to visit Beauty. They brought her carrots, apples, and sugar cubes. According to her encyclopedia they were good treats for a horse. Every day Sarah dreamed about riding Beauty. The adventures they could have together! She wanted to just jump on the horse and ride into the sunset! It was terribly romantic, she thought. And then for a week it rained and Sarah and Merlin were stuck at home. When the sun finally came out a Tuesday afternoon she practically ran with Merlin to their secret spot. But when she got there the horse was gone. She called to Beauty, but she didn't come. For the next few weeks she came back to the empty cul-de-sac. Beauty was gone. But Sarah had kept on dreaming. One day she would ride a horse. One day she would own a horse.

Sarah gazed over the fire staring at the white stallion, Blanchette, Holyoak had loaned her. He was a beautiful creature. She was so excited to finally realize her dream. _Oh, but the reality,_ Sarah thought shifting again from one sore position to another. She hadn't even slept yet. She couldn't imagine the pain she would be in tomorrow! Not to mention how terrible she was at navigating the horse. Holyoak tried to instruct her on how to pull the reigns gently to the right or left to have Blanchette avoid the wayward branches that tore at her clothes and skin. But she pulled too late or with too much force. When she tried to get him to speed up with the gentle kicks of her heel as Holyoak explained, she found herself bouncing almost out of the saddle. "Use your thighs", he chided, "sit up straight." "Loosen the reigns." Good God, a nightmare! A crash course on horseback riding while navigating through an unknown dangerous terrain - was she mad? If learning to ride a horse wasn't enough, she had to make a wooden bridge to cross a rapid river. Or she had to imagine a machete to hack away the overgrowth blocking the paths for miles. At least it was Holyoak and Knightly who had done the hacking. She had made sand to cover a path of thick mud that had sunk the hooves of the horses with every footfall. She couldn't even remember everything else she had made. Bottled water! Lunch! Firewood! Her brain and her body were utterly exhausted. She finally understood her college roommate, the foreign exchange student from Prague that went to sleep every night by nine. She said she was exhausted from translating in her head every day. Making felt like that. It used up all the reserved energy in her brain. She was so tired. But even despite her fatigue…she couldn't sleep. Her head was just a mess of thoughts. So it didn't matter if she was over her shift. She wouldn't be sleeping anyway, she thought as her heavy eyes gave way. I just need to rest my eyes, she thought.

"Sarah," Jareth's voice jarred her.

"You're here?"

"I never left."

"How can this be?"

"You tell me," he replied. Sarah furrowed her brow confused.

"Don't do that. They will stick that way."

"You can see me? But all I see is blackness."

"Sarah," Jareth said, his voice husky in her ear. She felt the warmth of his palm as it enrobed her hand reassuringly. "Try to relax. You have a long journey ahead of you."

"Where are you Jareth? Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay. But I will be. You will see to that."

Sarah winced. How she hoped he was right. "Where are you?"

"Some place dark."

"The Black Hole?"

"Sarah, I need you to be strong," Jareth said. She felt his thin lips on her fingers as he kissed her hand. "You don't believe in yourself. You see your failures, but you don't see your victories."

"I have failed at everything," Sarah said. She could feel the hot tears building under the surface.

"You saved your mother. You saved your stepmother. You weakened the Brotherhood. You've made amazing things in NMZ. You even saved Jeminy."

"I failed you."

"Never. I am still here."

"Jareth."

"Shhh…" Jareth whispered. "Wake up. Someone is coming."

"But I'm not asleep."

"Sarah. WAKE UP."

Sarah jolted in place, her eyes flickering open. Where was she and how did she get here? She pulled herself up from the hard ground. She felt light and rested. And how was it her body no longer ached?

Cruuuunch.

There was someone behind her.

She turned around just in time to see three men heading towards her. The first man was tall and broad shouldered with greasy hair and a bearded face. He smiled wickedly at her as he tugged on a coil of rope.

"Two for the price of one," he said, his eyes shining greedily.

"That's her alright. Careful with her, she's worth a pretty prize." The other man said. His pencil physique pushed a bound and bruised third man forward. The enslaved man looked up at Sarah. His blue eyes pierced through Sarah's skull with a knowing, warning regard. She gasped.

 _Terajh._

"Oh, no you don't," she said as she readied her hands for making combat. If anyone was going to pummel Terajh it would be her.

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

Knightly woke with a start. The hair on the back of his neck was charged with electricity. Something was wrong. In seconds he had lunged through the tent and into the half-light. The campfire had died and Sarah was no longer at her post. She was supposed to wake him for his shift. Where was she? And why was it so quiet? As if to answer, the crunching of feet on fallen leaves sounded nearby. Followed by a thud and then woman's cry. _Sarah!_ he thought, crashing through woods. _Why didn't she wake me!_ He ripped through the tangle of overgrowth, to find the source of the noise. Knightly was almost there…he could see shapes, he heard men talking. He padded more lightly, and stopped still in his tracks before a break in the forest. He should remain hidden, he thought. _In order to assess the situation and act accordingly._ There in the clearing, Sarah stood twisting at her tied wrists. Her face was contorted in panic as she tried to liberate her sole mean of defense - her hands. Three men were sprawled on the ground before her, shaking their heads in bewilderment, and a fourth man stood smiling triumphantly behind them.

"It looks like I will be taking that prize, Sadum," the man said as he ambled past his friends. He shoved their heads down further as he passed to approach Sarah. "This is what the rest of the Brotherhood is all up in arms about? Why, she is just a little girl. Tie her little maker hands up, and she is as harmless as a kitten." He stopped inches in front of Sarah, smirked, and turned backed to his friends. "See… harmless."

"That's not fair, Eloh. You are third generation Brotherhood. You made and you know we can't," Sadum replied.

"We managed to take him without making," another man said as he pulled on a rope that bounded a fourth man to the group. "You should have let us try and nab her first."

"So she could send you another invisible force? Look, I did you both a favor. Now you don't have to worry about her. We've declawed the kitty."

Knightly was just about to break through the shadows to pounce on the arrogant man when Sarah thrust her foot into the man's backside. He teetered forward before circling back at her with an irate expression.

"Why, you!" he cried as she swung her foot again, kicking his legs out from under him.

His comrades doubled over in a barrel of laughter while the captive fourth man seized the opportunity to deliver a fisted blow to the head of his assailant.

Knightly rushed in just as Eloh regained his footing. He had turned to Sarah with a vindictive stare and was so caught up in his hatred that he had failed to see Knightly's entrance. The man staggered back in surprise as Knightly came into view, allowing Knightly just enough time to consider his next move. Knightly reeled back and drove a forceful punch into the man's throat. Eloh keeled over grasping at his neck.

Knightly ripped at the cord tying Sarah's hands together and Sarah turned quickly to their aggressors, bounding their hands and feet with her making abilities before they could escape.

Finally, she turned towards their captive and stood over him with a calculative regard. "Terajh," she said a moment later.

"Hello, Sarah," the man said his eyes twinkling back at her as he gave her an ironic smile.

Knightly joined Sarah as she towered over the four men. "You should have woken me up," he said flatly.

Sarah met his eyes, and a smile cracked at the corner of her lips.

"Yeah, sorry about that," she said, bemused. "Next time I'll wake you when I need to have someone's throat punched."

Knightly laughed despite himself and the two enjoyed a moment of victory… and relief. "Uhh," he said a moment later, as he pointed to Terajh. "Who is he?"

* * *

A/N: Thank you HEW.

And thank you readers.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: The Labyrinth isn't mine

* * *

Chapter Nine

 _The Enemy You Know_

Sarah dismounted her horse, following the massive wall up, down, and side to side with her gaze. From either end of the horizon she could only see grey. Up close the wall looked smooth and glossy, reminding Sarah of her high school gymnasium floor after being waxed. But to the touch the surface first enveloped and then repelled her hand.

"Welcome to the Wall of Wal," Knightly said, turning to Sarah.

"That's Wal with one L," Willa added. "The town is Wal. And this is its wall. It stretches all the way to the end of Maker's Realm."

"The only way around the town of Wal is through the wall," Knightly continued. "The wall cuts straight through NMZ."

"Where is the entry to NMZ?" Sarah asked, searching for a break in the sleek surface.

Sarah watched Willa wince as she twiddled her thin fingers. Her mouth curved up into a reluctant smile as she began to speak, "Weeeell, It can't be seen by the naked eye. You first must travel to the Welcome Center of Wal, and they have special glasses to proceed to the town or through the gates to NMZ."

"Which means we have to make our presence known," Sarah said, comprehending the dilemma.

"And who knows what is waiting for us behind the wall," Aris added.

"How do we get to Wal's Welcome Center?" Trothe asked, looking at Willa and Knightly.

"I don't know," Willa said with a shrug, "That's all I learned about it in school. Knightly should know. He's the traveler in the family."

"I've only come by train, Willa. There is a special access underground for the train," Knightly said, apologetically.

Sarah could feel her heartbeat accelerating at the dilemma.

"Holyoak?" she said with a note of desperation.

"I've only been as far as Esor."

"Uh hum," a muffled voice came from behind.

The group turned to the indentured passenger on Knigthly's horse. Terajh smiled pleased at the turn of events.

"Oh, what? You just happen to know the way?" Sarah asked, curtly.

"It so happens I do."

"How convenient for you," she said her voice dripping in sarcasm.

"Excuse me for being a skeptic, but how would you know?" Holyoak asked with an incredulous air.

"It does seem rather unlikely," added Willa. "You are from the other side of the Maker's Realm."

"Well, you can't be the son of a Keeper of Truth without developing a thirst for knowledge," Terajh said with a satisfied grin.

Knightly turned back towards Sarah "Is that true?" he asked.

The others looked squarely at her with a quizzical air. Sarah bit her lip. She was hoping to avoid this conversation. At least for a little while.

"You haven't told us very much about him," Trothe added.

The truth was Sarah didn't know what to do with Terajh. The makers that had attacked her were easy fix. She couldn't risk them running off to tell the Brotherhood where she was. But Sarah wasn't a violent person, or at least, not if there was another option. So Sarah had made an oubliette. A round pit in the middle of the earth almost like the one she had found herself in many years ago. Almost. This oubliette wouldn't open up into a passage under Maker's Realm. There was no way out of hers. She had stocked it with food and water and left the three angry men to their own devices. But Terajh was Jareth's brother, and despite the fact that he was responsible for her abduction and he had almost killed her mother, she couldn't bring herself to condemn him entirely.

"Terajh is Jareth's brother from Jorg. He is responsible for having me captured. He is working for the Brotherhood," Sarah said a moment later.

"I _was_ working for the Brotherhood but I'm not anymore," Terajh corrected.

"Or so you would have us believe," Sarah said with a huff.

"Sarah, if I was part of the Brotherhood why do you think they would have had me imprisoned?"

"He makes a good point," Holyoak said with a shrug.

"Sarah, if I may," Aris began looking on Sarah with an air of compassion. "He did lead us to Olina's speck. I believe he can be trusted."

"What choice do we have?" Sarah said finally, glaring up at Terajh. "This doesn't mean I forgive you."

"Of course not," Terajh said. "Now could you please untie me?"

Another huff later and Sarah had unbound his wrists. Around her the other makers stared at Terajh with a skeptical manner.

"Where is the way?"

"The way to Wal's Welcome center is within the wild 'W.' You see, it was easy for me to remember the six 'w's."

"Within the wild 'w?' What in the world are you talking about, Terajh?"

"No Sarah, wait - I remember something about this," said Willa. She turned to Holyoak with a grin, "Didn't we pass walberry bushes?"

"I did see some a while back."

"That's it! I remember reading that they form a 'W' just in front of the center of the Wal wall. It's back this way, Sarah."

Sarah nodded approvingly. "Lead the way," she said. Her eyes still locked on Terajh. Whatever the truth in regards to Terajh allegiance, Sarah wouldn't be blind sided twice. At the moment, Terajh appeared to be a free man, but in her eyes, the jury was still out.

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

Aris could feel her nose twitching; it appeared she was allergic to Walberries. Her eyes watered, her throat was scratchy and she kept fighting back the desire to sneeze. Nevertheless, she pushed on through the brush, channeling her energy on the task ahead. _They were now seven,_ Aris thought, eying her comrades. Their numbers kept rising. She couldn't help but wonder - was an army forging? With the help of Terajh and Willa, they had made it to the yellow berries, the bush that zigged and zagged, apparently forming a giant 'W.' The invisible ladder was found at the middle peak of the massive letter. Now they were obligated to split up. They couldn't very well all climb the ladder to the invisible bridge of Wal and present themselves to the Wal Welcome Center. Sarah should stay behind. This way her presence would remain a secret. But who should go? Surely it would be better if only two made their presence known. Aris had a mind to be one such person. But who would accompany her?

"I should go," Holyoak said.

"Why should you go, Holyoak?" Willa asked as her cheeks became flush.

"I would be the leastsuspicious. I'm from a few towns over and would attract less attention."

"He's right," Aris said, the boy appeared innocent and perfectly capable of just 'passing by.' He was the exact person for such a task.

"Fine, then I'm going with you," Willa said, resolutely.

"You most certainly will not, Willa," Knigtly shot back.

"I can't let him go on his own. What if something were to happen to him?"

"I'll go with him," Aris said. "I'll keep him safe, Willa."

"Hello. Standing right here." Holyoak said with a frown.

"But you are from Limidus. Nothing about you reflects this part of Maker's Realm. I'm going."

"Willa, I don't need protection. I can go by my-."

"Absolutely not," Knightly interrupted. "No one is going anywhere alone."

"I agree," said Sarah. "And although I know exactly how you feel Willa, it shouldn't be you. I promised your father I'd keep you safe. How can I do that if you are out of my sight?"

"Then you and I should go," Willa said, her mouth drawn into a stubborn frown.

"Willa…" Knightly sighed in exasperation.

"Unfortunately, Willa, I have also a permanent weight on my back," Sarah said, lifting her steely gaze at Terajh. "He's not allowed out of my sight either."

"Then bring him with us."

"Only two should go. Anymore and that would draw too much attention. Holyoak is the logical choice." Sarah said, placing a reassuring hand on Willa's shoulder.

"I'll be right back, Willa, I promise."

"And Aris is very capable. I know she will keep him safe."

"Okay, Sarah. If you really think it's for the best," Willa conceded. "But I still think it should be someone else that goes with him. She's from Limidus, her traits scream 'foreigner'. Trothe, couldn't you go?"

"I could go. If that is what you want," Trothe said, nodding his head.

"Aris? Would that be alright with you?" Willa asked sweetly.

Aris looked between Sarah and Trothe. Apparently Sarah trusted him. She winced. Yes, the trustworthy man who abandoned her sister. If they were forging an alliance, the seven of them, it was a rather shabby group. Between Terajh and Trothe, Aris didn't know what was up and down let alone who she should trust. She placed a bet on Terajh. Now should she do the same with Trothe? _The alternative would be leaving him with Sarah,_ the thought came to her. _On second thought Trothe could be a good choice._

"Whatever is best for the group," she said in agreement.

"Well then, now that you have gauged who should act as my bodyguard, I'll be off." Holyoak leaned back planting a kiss on Willa's scowling lips. "Don't look at me like that, Willa. I'll be back before you know it. Honestly, you'd think I was marching off to my death."

"I'm holding you to your word, Holyoak. I swear if you go and get yourself killed I will resurrect your pitiful maker-self and murder you myself."

"Understood. I love you."

"Yeah, love you too."

Aris watched as the two men carefully mounted the invisible ladder. _Oooh,_ she thought as they felt clumsily for the bars beneath their feet. _I hope neither of them are afraid of heights._ She could feel her stomach turning for them. She had to look away. All they could do now is wait.

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

Toby sat by himself at the corner of Walker and Bayview. He was early. He was never early. But yesterday he had missed his bus and his Mom was hell bound to see it would never happen again. She had rushed him out the door ten minutes before the bus was due. He had trudged to the stop and planted himself on the bench. He pulled out a manga and ripped through the silver packaging of a blueberry pop tart. _Didn't even have time to toast it,_ he groaned to himself. He chomped down on the sweet, gooey pastry and wiped away the crumbs collecting on the pages of his favorite manga.

"It seems you have read that one a few times," a low voice sounded from beside him.

Toby jumped in his place. He hadn't heard the man approach, let alone sit down. He looked at the tattered pages and then up to the man, nodding his head in agreement. The man was tall and lean with blonde hair, and his eyes were very peculiar. He appeared unearthly to Toby but at the same time unthreatening. He felt at ease as if he were in the presence of an old friend.

"If you like that one you should read Hanatsukihime."

"You read mangas?" Toby asked in surprise.

"Sure, they are a good escape from everyday reality."

"Tell me about it," Toby said, exhaling sharply.

The man frowned tilting his head from side to side as he assessed Toby. "That was a loaded sigh," he said a moment later. He looked down at a wristwatch and continued. "I have time before my bus. Do you need an ear?"

 _Do I need an ear?_ "No, I'm alright," Toby said, his mouth twitching up at the end in contradiction.

"I have it on authority that I am excellent listener."

Toby should have felt alarmed at the stranger prying into his personal life. In normal circumstances he would have declined and stepped aside to pretend to call a friend. But something in this man's manner made Toby feel entirely too trusting.

"It's just…well I, I'm sick of people leaving. My father…he passed away recently."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," the man said.

"I miss him. I try not to think about it but now it's just me and my mom and the house seems so quiet."

"Do you not have any brothers or sisters?"

"I have a sister. She's great but she lives in Cambridge."

"And she is there now?"

"Yes, she left a couple days ago. She works at the university and, well, I told her I didn't need her here."

"But you do?"

"It's not that I do. It's just…people always leave."

"Why don't you call her?"

"I did, last night. But she didn't call me back. It really isn't like her."

"Toby, try her again."

Toby had been so engaged in the conversation he had forgotten to look for the bus. And for that reason the yellow paint appearing his in peripheral vision made him jump from his seat. He shoved his manga and breakfast in his backpack.

"That's me!" He said finally, turning back to where the man sat.

"Well," the man said, his eyes twinkling in Toby's direction. "You don't want to miss your bus again."

Toby nodded in agreement and mounted the steps of the bus. He just slid onto the cool seat before he realized how peculiar their conversation had become. He looked out the half open window and locked gazes with the strange man.

How did he know his name?

And how did he know he had missed his bus yesterday?

* * *

A/N: Thank you readers. And thank you HEW


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

 _The Cub._

Toby bit down on what was left of his eraser. He tried to listen to Mr. Crigger's lecture, but he found himself increasingly distracted. He knew there would be a test on Friday, but somehow the literature merit of George Orwell wasn't on his list of priorities. He shook his head. _It should be._ He could just hear his mother's voice reprimanding him. Plus he had promised Sarah that he could take care of himself. Part of that meant maintaining a 3.0 grade point average. He would just have to set aside his other concerns and concentrate on his enthusiastic teacher. Mr. Crigger's voice bellowed through the classroom as he passed energetically down the aisles.

"Who else can give me a memorable quote from their reading assignment?" Mr Crigger asked as he passed by Toby's desk. The girl next to him shot her hand into the air with force. Her book lay closed beneath her other hand. "Yes, Ms. Elliot?"

"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen."

 _Rachel Elliot was such a goody-two-shoes know-it-all. Who knows the text by heart the day after reading the assignment?_

"Very good, Ms. Elliot. The very first line of our book sets the scene for our story. Can someone explain to me how?"

Rachel thrust her arm into the air once more, waving it around as Mr. Crigger looked from one unresponsive student to another.

"Rachel," he conceded a moment later.

"Well, the phrase 'thirteenth stroke of the clock' comes to mind. 'Stroke of the clock' refers to the bell being struck on the hour, every hour. One chime equals 1 o'clock, two, 2 o'clock, and so on. Most clocks mark 12 hours and therefore the thirteenth stroke of the clock would announce an impossible time. Which in return would call into question the reality of all previous hours announced by the clock."

"Very astute." Mr. Crigger said. "That is one way to interpret Mr. Orwell's work. Another way is to simply consider military time where the clocks run to 24 marks. If we were to assume the clocks Orwell refers to run on military time what would that signify?"

"That the clocks running in unison in military time suggest a place under military power?"

"Very good, ."

Toby could see Rachel scowling from the corner of his eye. _Ha,_ he thought. _Serves you right._ But regardless of his satisfaction in seeing Rachel Elliot proven wrong he still couldn't shake the feeling of worry building in his chest. And all this talk about time made him feel even more uneasy somehow. It was like he could feel the grains slipping through an hourglass counting down to something significant. But what? He tried to bury the thoughts that began to resurface. What was she was doing, Sarah? Where was she right now? He peeked at his cell phone from beneath his desk. It was nearly 11:30. Why hadn't his sister texted him back? She always replied within a few hours. Toby sighed anxiously. She was probably just busy with all the papers to grade. She had missed a week of classes, he tried to rationalize as he glanced down at his phone once more. Why was he so worried? Why did it feel like red flags were flapping vigorously above his head? And what was the story with that strange man at the bus stop? The more Toby thought about it the more he was convinced he knew him from somewhere. But why would the man pretend to be a stranger? The man knew Toby's name. He knew Toby missed his bus. _I suppose he could have seen my name on my notebook or something. And if he was catching his bus today…maybe he was there yesterday. Maybe he had watched me miss mine. That must be it_ , Toby reasoned. It would also explain his apparent recognition of the man. He had seen him there yesterday. Yes, that was certainly it. _Right?_ Toby frowned, he wasn't satisfied. The gnawing feeling was still there. It felt as if something was hammering away from the inside of his mind, trying desperately to get out. _Hey!_ the something shouted, _There is more to this story!_ There was more. Toby knew it, like somehow he knew that man wasn't just a stranger passing by, or that time was of the essence. Toby sighed again his teeth chomping down on the yellow pencil.

"Stop it," Rachel said beside him, between clenched teeth. "It's gross."

Toby rolled his eyes at her before shifting his attention to the writing on the chalkboard. Who was she? The pencil police?

He shook his head, trying to once again clear the tangle of thoughts. _I have to maintain a 3.0. I have to maintain a 3.0._ He repeated the words in his mind, allowing the mess in his head to recede into the recess of his brain. Laying pencil to paper Toby began to copy the notes from the chalkboard _._

George Orwell

Born: 1903  
Died: 1950  
Important works: "1984", "Animal Farm"

Important Themes:

\- Dangers of: totalitarianism, propaganda, technology, 'religion'

\- Power of Language

\- Class Conflict

\- Contact Sarah

Wait? What? Toby did a double take. Did he see that correctly? White chalk on a dark green board spelling out, "Contact Sarah?"

He stared, dumbfounded at the board's words. Yes. It clearly reads, "Contact Sarah." Toby looked around at his classmates. Where were the confused faces? He peaked over to Rachel's notebook. Had she written it?

"Keep your eyes on your own notebook, Toby," she said pulling her notebook to her chest.

Mr. Crigger moved up to the board, erased the line and began to write "Important Quotes" in its place.

Toby shot up from his seat, giving the class a long bewildered look. Surely he wasn't the only one who had seen it.

"Mr. Williams?" Mr. Crigger asked in surprise.

"Why did you write that?"

"Write what?"

"That…what you just erased."

"I am not sure what you are referring to."

"Contact Sarah!" Toby shouted, looking about him frantically. "Come on, I'm not the only one who saw it. Matt? Walter?" His friends shrugged, confused. "Rachel, you note everything down to the date on the board." He lunged for her notebook only to have it snatched back with equal protest.

"Toby, that's mine, thank you."

"Mr. Williams?" Mr. Crigger said, looking at him with a concerned expression. "Are you okay?"

Toby took in the faces of his classmates, each and everyone staring at him as if he were wearing only his underwear.

"I have to go," Toby said quickly. He sped out the classroom fuelled by his growing nerves. _Grades be damned,_ he thought. _I am catching the next bus to Cambridge._

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

"Tell me about your brother," Willa said, looking at Sarah with a wistful expression.

 _The poor girl,_ Sarah thought, taking in Willa's increasingly bleak appearance. She was clearly in need of a distraction. Could she blame her? The hours seemed to be creeping by like molasses and with no sign of Holyoak or Trothe.

Sarah could feel the restlessness settling into her own bones as she shifted her weight against a large pine _. What was taking them so long? They should be back by now. What if something happened to them?_ It seemed she needed to occupy her thoughts as well.

"What do you want to know?"

"Father said he is a very spirited boy."

"That would be a very accurate description. Jeminy has a way of reading people."

"Yes, it is one of his many talents," Knightly interjected, looking kindly towards Sarah. Sarah felt thrown off guard. Did Knightly just agree with her?

"I would say he has a lion's heart. He is so brave but almost to a fault. He would swim shark infested waters to save someone he loves."

"Well, that's good," Willa said.

"Yes, but in haste he would overlook the paddle boat tied up to the dock."

"I know the kind," Knightly offered with a half grin in Willa's direction.

"He's awfully amusing when he drinks Makers punch," Aris added.

"Oh, don't get me started, Aris!" Sarah looked ruefully at her friend. _She looks miserable_ , Sarah thought staring at her puffy, red eyes. "Aris, maybe you should move away from the Walberry bushes, you look positively swollen."

"No, I'm alright," she said, stifling a sneeze.

"He's an excellent listener," Aris continued. "A noble confidant."

Willa peered up again over the bushes, "Does he know you are here?"

"No," Sarah said with a loaded a sigh. "He doesn't even remember Maker's World. Right now I can take comfort in the fact that he doesn't even know I'm gone. Hopefully, I will be back before he even notices my absence."

"I doubt that," Terajh voiced beside her. _Why can't he keep his mouth shut?_

"I don't believe I asked for your opinion, Terajh."

"You believe we can defeat the Brotherhood in the time it takes for him to realize you aren't in Cambridge? And I'm the one with questionable reasoning?"

"What do you want me to say, Terajh? That I am abandoning my brother? That I will leave him not only without a father, but now without a sister? I have to believe that this won't affect him," Sarah said through clenched teeth.

"Wishful thinking," Terajh said flatly.

Knightly whipped around inches from Terajh's face. "I think that's enough," he growled. Sarah tried to pry her eyes from Terajh and Knightly, she had already wasted too much energy on Terajh.

"It's alright Knigthly. He isn't worth it."

"You should be nicer to me, Sarah."

"For someone who desires above everything 'redemption' for his actions, you sure have a way of baiting me."

"Redemption from you? I am sorry for my brother, not for you Sarah. You are the reason we are in this mess to begin with."

"Terajh…" Aris began, her lips drawn in disapprovement.

"I'm the reason?! You had me abducted!"

"He what?!" Knightly said his eyes ablaze. "And why is he free, again?"

"Sarah," Aris started with a sniff, "we should try and work together." A short silence fell over the group as Sarah tried to channel her escalating anger. Aris was right. For now Sarah needed to set aside her resentment.

"I just hope Toby doesn't do anything foolish when he realizes I'm gone," she said turning back to Willa and Aris.

"He doesn't know about the Maker's Realm. He'll be fine," Aris reassured her.

"Well, I was looking for a distraction," Willa ventured with a wily smile.

"Toby makes for a great diversion," Sarah said, warmly. "If he would onl—" But the rest of her sentence was lost. She froze drawing the attention of her companions with one steady index finger that moved up to her mouth in a silent warning.

"That Sarah girl thought she could best us," a voice drifted to their ears. "We'll see what she can do when she is outnumbered."

"Hush, your incessant babbling is distracting me from the hunt," another voice sounded.

Sarah could hear the rustling of leaves. Several men, heading their way. Several makers. Several makers from the Brotherhood.

 _Please don't see us. Please don't see us._ Sarah thought, crouching down and indicating to the others to do the same. _The horses!_ Sarah realized, concentrating all her energy on making a Walberry bush to cover their forms. _Oh please don't make a noise._ But the horses remained silent.

 _Please don't see us. Please don't see us._

They were a few feet away. She could hear their breath. Smell the perspiration dripping from their skin. And then she could feel their growing frustration.

"I can't see a trace of hooves."

"Maybe she hid her trail."

"I told you they didn't come this way."

They didn't see them. Sarah stopped breathing. They were almost passed them. _They are going to miss us._ _We are almost in the clear!_ She could feel the corner of her lips twitching up in relief. She met Knigtly's gaze; an equally relieved expression.

They hadn't expected it. Sarah wasn't looking at Aris. She didn't see her fighting back the urge. In any case what could she have done? It couldn't be helped.

Aris sneezed.

A small stifled, but apparent sneeze. Her mouth dropped in utter dismay.

 _Oh crap,_ Sarah thought. _The Brotherhood's army just found us._


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

 _Star Light. Star Bright._

Some consider a moment of true terror as a test of your courage. If that were the case, the frozen Sarah was a genuine coward. They were surrounded. Fifty men against a handful of their own and Sarah was white as sheet of paper. Her expression was a veil of glazed panic. Like many, Sarah assumed being immobilized by fear would numb her mind as well. Yet the veil also seemed to mirror the unmoving Sarah in her mind's eye. It was as if she could see herself and in result she was wholly disappointed; disgusted. She wanted to shake herself out of it, but the mind boggling milliseconds crept on, each an excruciating eternity. Is this what one experienced when their body shut down? Her mind was in overdrive; assessing the situation, riffling through memories and contemplating tactics to reanimate her disconnected body.

 _Snap out of it!_ She cried to herself.

 _Oh my God, what are we going to do?_ Despite her unresponsive form she could feel the stiff bodies of her friends around her. Their breathing was low, heavy, and slow. Each inhalation appeared drawn out, as if time had reduced to a near stop.

" _Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock._ His voice rang clearly in her mind. _Don't concern yourself with time, Sarah. An eternity can pass in a blink of an eye._ _"_

 _Jareth._

" _Bluff, Sarah. Lie to them. You'll be surprised; you may even convince even yourself._ _"_

 _Of course, bluff, lie to them. Thank you, Jareth._

" _I'm not telling you anything you don't already know._ _"_

 _Jareth?_

"So this is 'the' Sarah?" the man's rough voice startled her back to reality. She felt the veil uplifting and was somehow certain that her ash-white, immobile self had not been detected, even among those nearest to her in proximity. The voice's owner stood smugly, his black, bulging eyes darting from one maker prize to another.

 _They don't know I am a coward,_ she thought before raising one steady hand with a stern and halting expression.

"I wouldn't count your prizes just yet," she said, her chin shooting up with defiant pride. "Certainly, I find you rather arrogant for someone who's about to be dealt a crippling blow." _Bluff._

"Ha!"scoffed the man. "You think your measly five could take a Brotherhood army? I'd like to see you try."

"Would you now? Let's consider your odds again," Sarah smirked. _Bluff, bluff, bluff._ _Buy time. Bluff._ "Among your party you may have a total of three or four second generation brotherhood members; undoubtedly yourself and maybe those men nearest to you. Not the wisest of tactics, I must observe. Your other forty men, the ones shaking in their boots right now, have no possible means of protection other than the swords they have already begun to unsheathe. Dead giveaway. Swords can be bested quickly. I find melting to be rather an efficient method. It has the added bonus of scalding pants and legs, rendering your army temporarily useless. Which would allow time for a more thorough incapacitation of each. Now, you may be surprised at how powerful one maker could be. Melting swords in such mass requires a lot of maker energy, far greater than the power you yourself possess. Maybe you even doubt me. But before you risk your life for the sake of a doubt, ask yourself this: why is there such an astounding price on one little maker's head?"

"Even if what you say is true, I could defeat you while you were _melting_ my army's swords."

"In theory you could try. But you do not account for the powers of my friends here."

"Enough of this. They are powerless in NMZ, like you."

"And so you are entitled to believe, but do you really want to gamble your army on a hunch?"

"Only second generation brotherhood can make in NMZ."

"Is that so?"Sarah said, hoping he would challenge her. She would only have to prove her power. He would take the rest for granted. She hoped. But what should she do? She had only mere seconds to demonstrate the depths of her power, as un-mastered as they were she would have to convince them all otherwise. Her stern face was a thick mask from which behind she was panicking internally.

They were still in the brush not far away from the invisible ladder. The terrain was sparser than in the heart of the walberries, but maneuvering around them would still be tricky. Furthermore, the army seemed to be looming above them, suffocating Sarah with their presence. She wanted more than anything to put space between them - a chance to breathe and bolster their odds. Sarah raised her hands up and out. _This will have to be powerful and quick_ , she thought, regarding her hands and hoping the Brotherhood wouldn't realize her intentions before they had chance to fruition.

"Look at my friends," she said, trying to guise her movement as a gesture. "We are stronger than we appear." She stretched her arms out wider trying to mentally feel the metal of a large, invisible fan. She listened for its hefty blades as they circulated clockwise before her. First slowly, sucking the air from above and forcing forward a ghostly breeze. The army before her looked around them, startled. The men searched for the source of the wind and their spokesman looked irately at Sarah. He lifted his arms ready to send her a blow.

Sarah's concentration was fueled by the man's violent expression. She pushed the fan propellers harder, faster with her mind, and the wind it produced picked up with a vehement force. The maker toppled back along with the others nearest to him. He regained his balance only to be thrust further with the entire army, fighting against a bulldozing wind. They looked like dogs in the back of a pick-up truck, their cheeks plastered to the back of their heads as they moved in slow motion against nature.

Sarah dropped her arms to her side, exhausted. The mask forever painted on her face as she plastered a superior gaze upon the Brotherhood army.

The men stood up again, all aghast save their spokesman. His expression was hard and wild.

"Is that the best you got, Sarah?"

Sarah's mask almost faltered. She was so tired she wasn't sure she had anything left in her.

"No," she said her eyes ablaze. "That was just a taste."

"By all means, try again," he lifted his hand quickly driving it down powerfully before him. His own pointed gust sending Sarah and her friends toppling backwards. "My power may not be as evolved as yours but you are still out numbered. And I call your bluff - your friends are powerless in NMZ."

The cool earth beneath Sarah's body was extremely inviting. Her drained self wanted to sink deeper into the ground, but she lifted her arms concentrating on the man's taunting grin. She felt the wind's vigor emanating from her fingers. An acute tornado propelled out of her, targeting his mocking face. _Success!_ Sarah watched through heavy eyes as part of the Brotherhood were swept away with the cyclone. She fought the fatigue coming over her but, despite her efforts, her surroundings went black. _Oh no,_ Sarah thought, as her consciousness slipped away from her. _I can't leave now!_

" _Rest, Sarah._ _"_ His voice was melodic as she melted into the welcoming nothingness.

Whatever else was to transpire, her companions were now left to their own devices.

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

Holyoak liked having his legs dangling in mid air. He would often liberate his feet from his horse's stirrups and let her gallop about as he relinquished his control. He never thought much about the distance to the ground, nor feared falling. Then again, he had never found himself suspended hundreds of feet in the air with no visible place to set his foot. This was definitely not the same thing.

Beads of sweat pooled above his blonde brow before rolling down his face and tickling his red cheeks. His left foot slipped again and he clutched tighter to an invisible rail.

"How you doing down there?" Trothe yelled back from a several yards away.

"F-fine," he managed back. He cursed to himself, chastising his left leg for its unruly behavior. "Don't worry about me," the boy shouted up, "I'll be there in a second." He tried disguising his labored breathing. He didn't need to look any less ridiculous.

He just had to concentrate on each step. Not how far up he had come, or how far below his comrades had become. Each unsure movement of his legs brought him closer to the end of this treacherous entry. What kind of welcome was this?! He could just imagine the Welcome Committee of Wal… _Welcome to Wal. Glad you didn't fall._ It didn't matter. In the long run he knew he was where he was supposed to be. Even if Willa wasn't part of the equation he always knew he was meant for something else. Scaling invisible ladders aside, Holyoak felt in his bones that somehow he would be of crucial use in this mission.

"You're there," Trothe said, much closer to Holyoak than he suspected. Holyoak almost jumped with a start. "Hey there, relax, can't have you meeting your maker today," Trothe said with a smile.

Holyoak reached out for the hand Trothe was offering. "It's a bridge. I'd say two feet wide. And the end is there. Do you see the prism shaped door straight ahead? Judging from the size, I would guess it's about 500 feet from here. There is a railing on both ends. It appears to have bars about 10 inches apart. It seems stable." Trothe jumped up and down and the bridge rattled. Holyoak didn't feel reassured. "You can breathe now, Holyoak," he continued placing a firm hand on Holyoak's tense shoulder. "The worst is behind us."

Holyoak gave him a forced smile. His eyes flittered downward to his feet, still nothing to be seen but a distant terrain. No, this was worse he decided, fighting the swishing feeling in his stomach that was threatening to make him hurl the remains of his breakfast below.

"I wouldn't look down," Trothe added looking back at his green companion.

"Wait," Holyoak said, he was about to peel his eyes away from the ground below, but stopped suddenly. Something was amiss. "No, we need to look down."

Trothe joined Holyoak in his observation of the world below.

"Hurry," Trothe demanded a second later. "We are going to need reinforcements."

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

The Welcome Center of Wal quickly opened its prismed, double-paned doors upon Trothe and Holyoak's arrival. A dozen short and stocky men stood shoulder to shoulder in the shadow of a petite young girl that appeared to be younger than Holyoak. Evidently commanding the group, she rose her arm sharply and their muffled whispers died in the cool air of the vast atrium.

"We've been watching," she said matter-of-factly. Her voice was deep and wise in contradiction with her youthful air. She was clad in midnight blue, wearing a train of shimmering dark fabric that draped with consideration over her tiny figure. Her pale skin was a stark contrast on the deep sea of blue cloth and when she moved gracefully towards the travelers her skin seemed to shimmer.

It was like beholding a star.

"I know why you've come and we are willing to be of service. Quickly, my men will take you to the observatories; there is access to the exterior of the wall. The makers of Wal can still can make there without consequence, but anywhere beyond that point and we are defenseless." Her voice resonated deeply as she locked arms with Trothe guiding them to the unknown.

In any other situation Trothe would have hesitated. Even Holyoak would have paused to assess, but the girl's kindness was disarming. Her beauty and warmth rendered the two men quickly injudicious. Whether they were rash and foolish would only be determined by the girl's true intentions. They followed her and her men out of the large atrium and into a long corridor that eventually wound out to a series of crystal beaded openings; they shimmered brightly in the dimly lit hall. The men pushed through the tether of incandescent panels and let in the bright light of day. Trothe and Holyoak squinted into the sun and cast down their gaze. They could just make out where Sarah and her comrades were facing fifty of the Brotherhood.

Red hot panic grew in Holyoak's cheeks and Trothe looked imploringly at the glimmering maker. Without acknowledging Trothe's plea, the girl in midnight blue touched an invisible screen and the scene before them zoomed in until their traveling companions and the army were only a few feet before them. Sarah was down on the ground her hand stretched fiercely before. She sunk into the ground just as an invisible power swept a handful of men up and out of their vicinity. Sarah was down, and Willa sprung to her side. The remains of the Brotherhood army looked nervously about. They teetered uncertainly looking behind them, towards Sarah, and then raising their swords. A decision had been made as they advanced upon the small maker party. Aris drew her sword while Knightly readied his fists. Terajh yanked out a low and large branch that was embedded in the soil. He ran into the heart of the Brotherhood's army swinging violently from one opponent to another. It all had started so fast. Holyoak and Trothe had barely had time register what was happening. The squat men of Wal drew out bows fashioned with ash. They fastened arrows with silver tips holding the bowstring with their dominant hands. Their bodies were positioned perpendicular to the army before them and their feet shoulder-width apart. Pointing at their target with their left shoulder they released the arrows by simply relaxing their fingers. The movement seemed so effortless and fluid to Trothe and Holyoak. They hardly knew how it could be possible. Makers were supposed to be peace keeping, not weapon wielding.

"The world has changed," the girl in midnight blue's voice sounded from behind them. Trothe and Holyoak watched as several men keeled over gripping their legs or arms.

"We aim to injure, not to eliminate," she reminded the group.

"Can they see us?" Holyoak asked.

"No, you are safe in here."

Holyoak was far from being reassured as he shrunk back from the blood. One time a friend of his had fallen from his horse. His bone had broken and pierced through his skin. Holyoak had carried him to his father for mending; the warm blood had dripped all over him. He remembered thinking he didn't like the sight of it or its metallic smell. He hoped he would never see that much blood again. But this was entirely more gruesome. He looked up at Trothe who was only grinning, triumphantly.

"I only wish I could help," Trothe said, flatly. "You should have seen what they did to Ximuna."

The girl stood motionless next to him. Her voice was calm and smooth as she said, "I understand. Yet perhaps it is wise that you sat this one out. I believe there is too much anger in your heart."

"Damn right," Trothe huffed, "you bury enough of your own and you want justice."

"We remain faithful to our own souls by not surrendering our moral compass. We injure to survive, we do not eliminate."

"Perhaps you are right," Trothe said, hanging his head bitterly. "We can't let them change us."

"The world is changing, yes, but you and I, all of us here," she lifted her starry gaze towards the men of Wal, "we can control how much we change with it."

Holyoak and Trothe stared with amazement. The beautiful girl with such an innocent expression was much wiser than anyone they had the occasion to meet. They sat back and watched as the men of Wal rendered the Brotherhood army, maker by maker, powerless and imploring to surrender.

Holyoak and Trothe finally let out sigh of genuine relief. Aris had bent down to pickup Sarah, Willa's calm expression confirmed she would be alright. They had done it - the men of Wal, Sarah, and the others had defeated a part of the Brotherhood. _In hindsight, it had been wise to follow the starry woman,_ Holyoak thought.

He was glad to see he hadn't been played the fool.


	12. Chapter 12

Still don't own the Labyrinth

* * *

Chapter Twelve

 _The dreamers cease to dream_

Tall grass framed a baby-blue tattered quilt that was sprawled out beneath Toby's chubby one-year-old legs. The blades of grass peaking out around the edges of the blanket formed a natural play pen for the boy. Toby didn't like the feel of the itchy plants on his bare legs. He stood, wobbly, towering over his building blocks and bringing a comforting finger into his mouth to suck on. He wasn't sure what to do. His sister, Sarah, laid beside him, a book rising and falling on her chest as she slumbered through an afternoon breeze. He had seen a lot of the girl since the weather had begun to change. He had heard his mother say on several occasions "babysitting," "summer vacation." Toby understood as much as a one-year-old could. The present moment was, in itself, one of those rare occasions where the well-rested boy had managed to wake up before his sister. Toby wanted to explore. He wanted to move past the quilt, and to see the new world waiting for him. And though almost every object he would stumble upon would be nameless to him, the many stumps, rocks, leaves, and insects were none the less prizes he would label in his own crafted language. They were of course oogas, dagos, beedees, mas, etc. He felt the prickling enticement of adventure calling for him beyond the barrier of the tall grass.

"Toby," a low melodic voice sounded in the breeze. A whisper. "Tobias, come here, dear boy."

Now Toby desperately desired to leave behind the quilted haven. His curiosity was building with every passing second. But he couldn't get away. Frustration mounted in Toby's little chest, he whimpered and beads of anxiety pooled in the corner of his eyes. He hurried towards the prickly barrier, and then stopped, his feet stomping in their place. He opened his mouth, his lips curled inward in preparation for the alarm to sound.

"Ah, ah, ah," the wind cooed again. And with it the blades of grass parted offering Toby passage to the adventure beyond the quilt. To say Toby moved with caution would be a deception. As soon as the path gave way he half ran, half stumbled forward- crushing the bent blades of grass with his bare feet. He giggled, pausing only a second when the path divulged into two different directions.

"Tobias," the winds playful whisper followed him down a shaded path; a path that wound in circles before suddenly stopping at a giant willow tree. Its branches were thin and swaying, like moving tentacles and a bright light peaked out from behind them. Toby smiled, watching the glimmer of lights dance through the tree. He pushed an eager hand forward, surprised that it went through. His body followed suit and he found himself face to face with a man propped casually against the trunk of the tree. His eyes twinkled as he spun a brilliant ball of light from one hand to another.

"You found me," the man said. "Time to claim your prize, Toby. Oh, what is this?" The man smiled as Toby's eyes grew with awe. He ambled forward grabbing for the man's brightly lit orb. "This, Toby, is your dreams. Would you like to see it?" The man then offered the strange globe to the amazed toddler. His small hands holding it to his chest like a treasure. Toby was surprised at how cool the shiny surface felt beneath his shirt. It thumped loudly in rhythm with his own quickened heart beat. He peered down and into the globe. Images flashed before him. It was himself, a toddler, a teen, a man. And then a haze of jumbled colors that finally melted away to reveal a black room with a woman watching two children scale a tree.

"Toby!" Sarah's voice rang a short distance away. He turned towards the voice of his sister, just in time to see her peeling away the low lying willow branches. Her eyes were ablaze, he didn't know this expression, but it appeared to be very intense, so intense that he couldn't stop the emotions building in his chest. He burst into tears.

"Oh, oh, there now, Toby," she swooped him up in her arms. "You scared me so much. What on Earth could have brought you here?"

Toby stopped crying, tilted his head, and pointed to the man under the tree. But now there was no man. He looked around confused. Where had the man gone? Toby lifted his arms showing his sister the glowing orb. But the orb was gone. He held up a rock. A perfectly round rock.

"Oh," Sarah said, her eyes flittering between the rock and Toby. "Thank you, Toby. It's a rock."

"Cambridge," a voice interrupted Toby's reverie.

 _Cambridge?_ Toby shot up, shaking the remainder of the dream from his mind. He was going to miss his stop.

He grabbed his bag, pushing down the nagging thoughts that followed him off the bus. It was just a dream. He shook his head again. Why did it feel more like a message? He replayed the images still fresh in his mind. Tall grass, winding path, glowing orb, and there it was - the man. The man from the bus stop. The same man that had been haunting his thoughts. What a disturbing feeling. It was as if the man was after him. But why? _It's completely ridiculous_ , thought Toby. _I've clearly let my imagination run wild. It'll be better, as soon as I see Sarah it'll be better._

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

Sarah was wrapped in a black abyss, a darkness that clung to her body as comfortable as her own skin. It felt as familiar as home after a long voyage. Her sight had abandoned her but her other senses functioned with uncanny clarity. She could hear his breath, smell his piney scent, and feel the twinge of his lips hovering delicately over her mouth.

"I knew you'd come back," Her smile whispered into the depths around her. Her arms reached out before her, her fingers tingling in anticipation, but they met with nothing. _Jareth?_ The emptiness tugged at her serenity.

"I'm not corporal."

"What are you then?"

Jareth didn't reply. Seconds passed by in silence. A heavy, loaded silence that grew in Sarah's ears. And soon the eerie hush seemed to scream around her, while the enveloping blackness turned violently to ice, a prickly cage of disappointment.

She thrashed about her, wishing she could shatter the metaphorical icicles that pinned her to her spot, and was startled to make contact with the freezing surface that broke and splintered before her. It wasn't just in her head. She ripped through the black, willing her mind to ignite a fire. As a flame flickered in the palm of her hand, she wondered at the dancing light that seemed to perch tamely on her unscathed palm. The gold and red reflected in a thousand jagged icicles that hung before her. Soon the space was ablaze in mirrored reds and gold, the icicles weeping in pools at her feet. She ventured forward, batting down the thin frozen bars. Where was she going? Where was she?

She stopped, the black had receded. And in its place she saw them. Two small children. A boy and a girl, both with hair as silver as the moon, Sarah thought, bouncing an incredulous look between the majestic pair. They were dressed in pearly white robes and balancing on a large bough that writhed in and out of other gnarled and twisted roots. The roots plunged deep below her, but also stretched high above. And Sarah realized they were without end. Had she created this too?

"No, the roots are always here, whether or not you see them," said the girl, apparently reading her mind.

"You cannot make them," the boy added.

"You cannot destroy them," the girl continued, her silver hair waving in a nonexistent breeze.

"You can only work to tame them," the boy lowered himself down a part of the massive trunk. "Find me," he said, walking slowly toward Sarah.

"Great, more riddles," Sarah said, staring flatly at the boy's sunken expression. She looked at the girl imploringly. "Am I dreaming?"

"Yes," the girl confirmed.

"It doesn't make it any less real," frowned the boy reaching Sarah. "Find me," his touch was searing, and burned Sarah's skin. He grasped Sarah's hand tighter, "Please," he said, through eyes both seemingly young and old at once. "Find me."

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

"I didn't mean to spook you," Jareth said, his hands propped coolly over his walking stick. He was reclining in the floral armchair placed in a corner of Sarah's living room. He was aware of how it might appear to Toby, this strangely out of place man, clad in black, all angles and masculinity, sitting in such a frilly, feminine room. He felt oddly disturbed by Sarah's décor. It was like an affront to that part of her he had once found so desirable. A side of her that was more vulnerable than bold, more delicate and soft than aggressive. The part he saw once they had stripped away all pretenses and had confessed their love. It reminded him of the softness of her skin, the touch of her lips against his. The warmth of her body against his own. The appealing sensations that once evoked such strong emotion… In short, he was both intrigued and disgusted by the peculiar memories Sarah's home provoked. If he hadn't known better, he would fear getting too close to Sarah would restore his love. But their last kiss was proof that he was not in danger of being bogged down with emotion. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that Sarah was bad for him. Is that why he was so infatuated with her now? The forbidden fruit? He wanted to dance with danger, and to tame her, like a faithful little puppy. He wanted to turn her from frills to hard edges. He would have her still, and in the way that suited him. Leaving aside the juxtaposition of leather and lace, Toby's expression had flitted from surprise to the more fitting alarm. Jareth could read every thought that crossed through Toby's mind.

 _Who was this man? He was the man at the bus stop. He was the man in my dream? Or was it a memory? Do I know him? How do I know him? What is he doing in my sister's house? What has he done with her?_

 _There,_ Jareth thought, _That is my cue_.

"Whoa there!" Jareth said, "I promise, I have nothing to do with your sister's disappearance."

"Disappearance?"

"Well, I assume she has disappeared. You've confirmed as much by coming here. Look around - she isn't here. She hasn't responded to your calls, if you listen to her voice recorder the dean's office has called to enquire about her unexcused absences, her car is in the driveway, her suitcase in the hall closet, her purse and cell phone hanging behind the chair in the entryway. It appears your sister has vanished."

"How did you get in here? What have you done to my sister?"

"You are not asking the right questions, my dear Tobias."

"Toby," Toby corrected before turning pale, "And how do you know me?!"

"Ah, Tobias…that is more like it. Should I start from the beginning? No, we have no time to waste. If your sister has gone where I believe she has gone, every minute counts times six."

"That makes absolutely no sense."

"Oh but it does. Suffice it to say that you know me very well. We have spent the last few weeks together. We have travelled through another world where time runs fast, or slow, depending on how you look at it. The world is rich with magic and adventure, often of your own making. And we have fought battles and survived. You have met many new and important people. My brother and father, Sarah's mother and grandmother, among others."

"Oh, okay, Crazy. I swear to you, if you don't tell me what you have done to my sister you won't live to see another day."

"Where do you think you grew into a man, Tobias. Yesterday, in the human realm you weren't even able to stand up to a high school bully."

Jareth could read the rage surging behind Toby's fearful expression, as he clutched tighter to the back of the sofa.

"Right now," Jareth continued, "you are evaluating your options. You want to fight me. You think maybe you could extract information from me. You are wondering if rage alone can make up for your lack of size against me. Let me save you from unnecessary grief. And humiliation. Why would I solicit help from you, Tobias, if I had been responsible for your sister's disappearance?" Jareth smiled, triumphantly at Toby's perplexed expression. "It would seem rather counterproductive to whisk Sarah away and then alert you of her absence."

Toby's eyes narrowed, casting an incredulous look towards Jareth. "But what you said about another world is nonsense."

"As nonsense as words appearing and disappearing on a chalkboard?" Jareth waited for the flash of recognition to cross Toby's regard. "As nonsense as seeing your infant self see me?"

"That…that was just a dream."

"As nonsense as the copy of the Labyrinth that is in your hand right now?"

"What copy of—," Toby's breath caught short as looked down to the leather bound copy of Sarah's childhood book.

"You are wondering how it got in your hands? What about now, Toby?" Jareth tapped the floor with his walking stick for affect, the leather bound book disappeared from Toby's hand to reappear in his own.

"That's—,"

"Impossible?" Jareth finished the boy's sentence. "It isn't. The world isn't what you remember. It is much more. I would love to go into detail and explain it all, but time is short, and we have to find your sister."

"But I…"

"Don't trust me?"

"No."

"Does it matter?" Jareth could feel the seconds pass as Toby inhaled deeply, looking around the familiar Sarah-less room. Sarah's living room.

"No," he said finally.

Jareth grinned, ear to ear. At last things were going his way. He would get to Sarah. Yes, he would bring her back to the Brotherhood and he would have everything he wanted. And it was a faultless plan. Sarah would become his little puppy; he knew it, because as of this moment he had the perfect little bone.

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

Sarah yanked her hand away, her hand still burning from the boy's touch.

"Sarah?" a woman said, her voice a gentle hum. _No, not a woman. A girl,_ thought Sarah as she blinked the voices owner into view. The strikingly beautiful girl leaned over where Sarah lay, her hand still at Sarah's side.

 _Where was she?_ she thought, as she blinked away the darkness. Her eyes adjusted to the dancing light that had filtered through a cascade of prisms forming a far wall in a dreamlike room. The colors shimmered over every surface including the luminescent girl before her. Her skin glowed in stark contrast to the midnight blue gown which in itself seemed to shine with stars in a midnight sky.

Was this a part of her dream? And who was this girl? And why was she looking at her that way?

She abruptly pulled herself a way from the mysterious young woman, tucking her feet to her chest like a child. Why did she suddenly feel so vulnerable? Like somehow this girl was seeing right through her?

"It is gift and a curse," the girl said. "I can see into the hearts of man and maker. Come, Sarah, I wanted to talk to you, privately before the others came."

"Am I?.. Are you with the Brotherhood? Did they capture us?"

"Look into here, Sarah," the young woman said pointing to her own chest. "What do you see when you look at me? Am I a friend?"

Sarah studied the girl before her and felt herself relax. _But wait…_ _what if she can somehow control our feelings?_ She could here her breath catching in her chest again as she regarded the young woman skeptically. _No, my own doubt was confirmation that I'm in control. And I feel…I feel…_ she let the past and the fear roll off her shoulders looking at the young woman through objective eyes. "I feel like I can trust you. But, I've…"

"Been wrong before."

"Yes."

"With Terajh?"

"Yes," Sarah said surprised.

"He fought bravely against the Brotherhood when you had exhausted your reserve. He seems eager to redeem himself. Perhaps he was a man who made a grave mistake, a man who in his core is of sound and noble heart. Much like his brother."

Sarah sat up abruptly as the events leading up to her blackout fell into place. "Oh no," she thought out loud, panic surging through her once more. How long had she been out? What happened after she passed out? Why was she here? Where were her friends? She shook her head, trying to organize the jumble of questions. "Is he alright? And the others?"

"You have my word as a maker. Everyone is fine. I will let them in to see you if you feel up for their visit. But first, I wanted a moment alone."

"Well, you have it. Granted I didn't play much of a part in offering it."

"You are not a prisoner here, Sarah. I would like to converse with you, but only if you are receptive."

Sarah hung her head feeling suddenly ashamed. This girl had been helping her. Why was she being so difficult? "You have been through so much, in such a short time," the girl replied, evidently sensing Sarah's feelings.

"You seem to know so much about me, and I don't even know your name."

"I know only what your friends have divulged during your respite. My name is Ilisia. I have been the Keeper of Truth of Wal for the last two hundred years."

Sarah's brows darted up in surprise. She knew that makers aged differently, and could even choose to alter their appearance to remain young, but she hadn't expected it from this girl. Even despite the mature manner in which she spoke, the girl before her looked so innocent. Why would she want to stay looking so young?

"My gift has come with a price," Ilisia said. "The Makers Land isn't as perfect as it seems."

"I know, I have seen the Brotherhood's destruction. They have gained much ground since my arrival."

"The Brotherhood isn't the only threat," Ilisia smiled bitter-sweetly. "It's much more complex than that. You cannot paint all the Brotherhood black and all the Council white."

"The Council?"

"How old would you say I look, Sarah?"

"I don't know, fifteen maybe? Why?"

"My maker body stopped aging at twelve."

"I don't understand."

"Who do you suppose created the law of NMZ?"

Sarah bit down on her lower lip. She was trying to tether sense from the girl's words but she felt like something vital was missing. "I don't know, I supposed it had always been that way."

"Amphibian transformation?"

"It does seem a little ridiculous now that you mention it. I never put much thought into how it came to be."

"Every Maker Land protocol from the Mortal Embassy, to the Hall of Half Truths, or the Keeper of Peace, the Keeper of Truth and so forth all began by a Council Creed."

"Who is in the Council?"

"Nobody knows anymore. Or at least common makers, such as myself, are not informed."

"But you are a Keeper of Truth. I would say that is uncommon, no?"

"And I am a puppet."

"I still don't understand."

"Which is part of what makes you so special. You escaped their reach. We are unable to defend ourselves outside of our own towns. Does that seem just?"

"No, it doesn't," Sarah conceded, thoughtfully. "Though I understand it was means of protection."

"Indeed, protection from ourselves," the girl's lovely face turned to a grimace. "I was born and not made, you know. That is why I have my gift. In some makers that are born naturally from love, their abilities can alter. They call me 'evolved. ' I read what is in people's hearts. I know better your heart than you do."

"That shouldn't be difficult," Sarah said, thinking of the mess her and Jareth now found themselves in. She hardly knew what to feel anymore.

"You are too severe with yourself, Sarah. You share a pure love with Jareth. I can sense it. It is still there."

Sarah felt suddenly very uncomfortable. She wasn't ready to face what she felt. And if Isilia could sense her feelings, could she also sense the insanity that had taken root in her mind? Had she not began having incredibly vivid dreams…hallucinations? Sarah needed to change the conversation, anything but this. The girl, smiled gently at Sarah sensing her distress.

"I may have been able to do more than just 'sense' had the Council permitted it," Ilisia said, looking quietly at her hands.

"Why? What did they do?"

"At twelve they learned of my special talent. They are informed of all 'evolved makers,' you see. If they deem the maker a threat, they eliminate the threat," she paused looking at Sarah. "For me it was a warm summer night and I was in my bed with my sister Cara. They came for me. And I still remember hearing her screams. And then her silence. They had somehow captured her voice. Then they cloaked my eyes. They 'made' in Wal. I still don't know how they did it. How can they do what the rest of us cannot. They took me somewhere, it was a long trip. And they did something to me."

"What? What did they do?" Sarah asked, aghast.

"I don't know. But that night my body stopped growing. I never received the woman's tide. I can't bear children naturally, and I must stay as child, myself. I tried to alter my body. Other makers tried…but it's like I'm cursed. I cannot change. All I can do is sense feelings. It isn't quite like before. Before I could see them, fuming over people, coloring them vibrant shades. Now it's just a tickle, somewhere in the recess of my brain, I get a taste of what people feel. I had it easy. I was one of the lucky ones… As the Keeper of Truth I have heard echoes. Disappearances of 'evolved' children, never heard from again."

"That's horrible."

"It's all in the name of 'order.'"

"But who's orders? And who gets to decide?"

"Exactly, Sarah. And that is why this mission is so important. It isn't just about the Brotherhood. It's about liberating makers from all tyranny. The whole system needs to be wiped out. I cannot do anything for my people but protect them here. But you, Sarah, you are special. You have so much power. And you have only begun to understand it."

"Yes, but I'm just one person."

"You aren't alone."

"Yes, I know, I have Aris, Holyoak, Willa, Knightly and even Terajh. But they aren't expected to defeat the brotherhood. I am. And I'm just one person."

"One person maybe," Ilisia conceded, "but I sense two hearts in you."

Sarah paled, "What do you mean?"

"Jareth lost his love," the girl's voice softened to a whisper, "and you found it."

* * *

A/N: Thank you H, you are the best.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

 _The Captain's Daughter._

Whenever she heard the bells, they reminded her of home. Not the place that had recently been destroyed, nor this town that she had known since her first breath in the Makers Realm, but the home she had made in the Human Realm. The few years she had passed as a wife and a mother in a small, plain town; that was her real home. One she could never forget. Her memory was never clouded. Not when it came to the years she was known as Linda. Or the years she responded to "Mom." She remembered perfectly the town with its square houses and blocks bordered with immaculate lawns. The stop lights that seemed to last a lifetime. The grocery store where she could never find what she was looking for. The place where she worked to earn money. The money she used in exchange for goods. The goods required to live and to survive. The smell of asphalt in the hot summer, the way the ice would freeze the car locks in the winter. She knew dizziness from the heat, and a cold that chilled the bone. That world was one of highs and lows. But through it all they had each other. She was Linda, she was Mom. The lines in the checkout passed, the hours preparing a meal were rewarded. The blistering cold was tamed by fire and the game of Rumikub. She had known true happiness. She had known home. That was one thing most makers couldn't understand. When things come easily how could a maker know their worth?

But Olina did. And now that her love had been restored to her memories they weighed down on her like a house of bricks. Olina shuddered looking up at the bell tower. It was time. Four somber chimes. Her neighbors peeked their heads out from arched doorways, breathing sighs of duty. They were learning. The people of Cannali were learning about lows.

Olina stepped out onto the shimmering delta. The dry earth rose carefully to her doorway, her house and those of her neighbors surrounded by sparkling waters. The cerulean sky, and cotton ball clouds reflected in the clear waters. Lily pads and flowers edged slightly over the pathways. The houses themselves appeared like stems from the water; their roofs like giant blossoms, the delta spreading out like intricate roots. The fourth bell sounded longer and lower than the other three chimes. And Olina followed her neighbors towards the highest point on their delta. The recently made Tower of the Bells which erupted like a tree among the bed of budding houses. She had to crane her neck to see the top, its pearly roof reflecting in the gentle sun's rays. There was no question in Olina's mind. The town that had given her life was stunning and unlike any vision found in the Human Realm.

And though the makers of Cannali would take pride in their creation, they would never be able to fully appreciate its beauty. Neverthless, Olina would trade a thousand makers' towns to be home with Sarah. Which was why giving her up not only once but twice was a grievance almost too heavy to bear.

"Captain Olina," the voice interrupted her silent reverie. She returned a man's nod as the crowd parted, allowing Olina passage to the entryway of the tower. Here she was in her first home and facing the people that she had abandoned so many years before. She had left them, her mother and father, her brother, her nieces and nephews. She only left a note. Coming here after all this time, after everything that transpired seemed surreal to her. But even more surreal was the eagerness of the fellow makers to not only welcome her back, but to forgive her transgressions. It was unthinkable that they would regard her with respect and heed what news she had to deliver. But here they stood, following her movement with a steady and ready gaze. Azela explained to her that the people of Cannali were ready to listen because of the hardships they had already endured these last few years; makers disappearing without a trace, children abducted in their sleep, unexplained damage in their sphere, and breaches in their wall of defense. Olina had come home to them, her mother had said. If Olina came home, then there was hope for the others. And Olina knew so much more than anyone else. The day after her return the gasps had receded and the assembled makers had given audience to Olina. And so Olina recounted her story. She started with the night she left her daughter deserted in the Human Realm. That was the night she learned of the Brotherhood. They had found her. They had learned she left to live with humans and they had hunted her like prey. They despised her (and other makers like her) because of her love for humans. When they found her alone, she made a choice. Join them to protect her family. Olina left the Human Realm and spent years as an enslaved maker. She said nothing. She allowed herself to feel nothing. And then along came Razwel. He was a tall man with a dark, penetrating stare. He found her covered in her own filth, thin and beaten. Despite her appearance, he felt drawn to her. Olina only exchanged his attention with a vacant stare. He took her to his speck of dust. He cleaned her up himself. He dressed her in fine dresses, draped her in jewels. He sat her up at his table. He chatted and attempted to charm her, he tried to coerce her with music and flowers, with beautiful lavish gifts. He tried everything to win Olina's affection. And when she only returned his advances with silence, he grew desperate. It was a matter of heart, he had declared. She was too wrapped up in her own grief. He knew someone who had mastered the art of stripping feelings. If he couldn't have her love, he would just have her. The night Razwel had her love stolen away, Olina gave herself to him and the next morning she declared it was the last time he would ever touch her. She explained that she had only wanted him to know what he couldn't have. Every time he looked at her he would see what he most desired but couldn't possess. In a fit of fury, Razwel thrust her into the Black Hole. The rest had come to the ears of Cannali in bits and pieces. Her joining the Brotherhood, once more, but this time by choice. They were aware already of her treachery. They had had a firsthand source. Olina's heart thudded heavily at seeing her among the people of Cannali. The makers understood why. They could see in Olina's eyes the physical pain it caused to be reminded of the days she spent as the Iniquitous Olina. She had tormented many makers, but this girl was something else entirely. Azela wrapped a reassuring arm around her and explained to the crowd that Olina needed a few days to recuperate.

That was almost two weeks ago. And since that day, Olina had held meetings with towns people a number of times. After much deliberation the makers of Cannali had established a plan. For that plan they had elected Olina to lead the way. Captain they called her. Olina tried on the title role. It felt strange and undeserved in her mind. But she felt that this was the price she would pay to redeem herself. Somehow, unwittingly the Brotherhood had made her a perfect candidate. Her returned love and the knowledge gained from her experience as the Iniquitous Olina made her the strongest weapon against the Brotherhood. Other than her own daughter, of course. But Sarah was safe in her ignorance. Olina saw to that herself.

Despite their weeks of careful consideration and discussion, the dread permeating from the makers before her was palpable.

"Enough," Olina said, her loud voice chiding the throng of makers. "I see it in your faces. I hear it in your sighs. Extinguish your dread. It does nothing for us. We must face reality. These are the times we live in. We do not have the luxury of becoming bogged down by fear of the unknown. We must find the strength to battle. If we cannot find the courage to fight, we have already lost. Do you understand me? You all know my story. You all know how I have become this person before you. I once lived blindly like you and had my peace ripped away from me. We cannot let that happen to our children. We must sacrifice our own current happiness, our comfort, our peace for that of a better tomorrow. The bells toll for them. They toll for our children. They are worth it, are they not?"

"They are," Azela said, placing a gentle hand on Olina's shoulder. The makers of Cannali stared blankly ahead, numb from the pain, not daring to look back. Olina understood. Forging forward, were they leaving their children orphaned?

::/::/::/::/::/::

Forging forward, Sarah made her way through the great space. The large dining hall buzzed with noise as more than a hundred makers had stumbled over themselves to see Sarah and her companions. Ilisia didn't believe in secrets and had open communication with all the makers of Wal. In theory it was an ideal situation, Sarah mused. However, the present atmosphere proved to be more chaos than communication. The people of Wal shouted over each other assessing the announcement that Ilisia had given only a few minutes ago. In short, Sarah and her friends were on a mission to liberate the makers in Makers Land. The news had been followed by an elated roar. Then Ilisia had explained the potential threat incited by having aided Sarah and her group. The crowd's once collective voice had diverged into discombobulated noise. Remarks of unease mingled with bouts of encouragement. Fear with reverie. Sarah felt a thousand eyes upon her, and she was suddenly aware of the fact that she direly needed a shower. Trothe stood by her, unmoving, his eyes gazing over the noisy town's people. He was seemingly unbothered. She felt strangely comforted by his being there. Trothe and Holyoak had met with Ilisia several hours before. They had been helped by the people of Wal. It would appear they were a group of sound moral judgment. Or so she hoped. _People need time to digest_ _the_ _news_ , Sarah thought, trying not to appear as nervous as she felt. Ilisia placed a reassuring hand on Sarah's shoulder. She wasn't sure she liked having her feelings probed, but the girl's touch managed to ease the worry that had begun to manifest within.

She watched the child-woman slowly raise her hand above the shrill crowd. Voices faded one after another until silence reigned in the large space.

Ilisia's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once as she spoke. Her voice was low and powerful, it demanded attention. "Makers of Wal," she began, "I understand your alarm. I feel that the greater number of you are fearful, but nonetheless satisfied. It comes down to understanding that the actions made here today have been in the greatest interest of all. My decision to help Sarah was hasty and without your approval. And for that I am sorry, but the circumstances were of such where a decision was to be made quickly and without hesitation. That being said, I hear what is in your hearts. You are worried, but more importantly you are relieved. There is a mission. The tyranny will end. These times continue to be difficult, but we are blessed in knowing that we have helped the cause. Now, Makers of Wal, allow me to reassure you, I will do whatever is in the best interest for my people. Having done our duty to help Sarah and her companions, I now feel I can stay by your sides to protect you come what may."

The heavy silence devoured the room once more as Isilia's speech came to an end. Sarah watched as many heads bobbed in the crowd, absorbing the information. A man's hand rose above the sea of heads.

"Yes, Warderict?" Ilisia's voice cracked, seemingly surprised.

"I cannot speak for the others," the man began, scratching his red beard. "Certainly you feel our concern, and for me, my pride in being a part of this. But what you can't know is what I want." He looked down to a young boy standing to his right. "I think you should go."

"Warderict, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but my place is here. To protect the people of Wal."

"We can protect ourselves," said a woman a few feet from Aris.

"Zerita, you've heard of the terrible destruction the Brotherhood has wreaked thus far, and that is simply what we are aware of. I don't think that anyone is really safe. We are all in danger. Think of our children."

"I'm thinking of our children," Warderict continued. "Your gift is special. Here it is only a line of defense. And really to what degree can sensing danger really defend us? The danger is coming whether we sense it or not. But there, with them, you are more use to the people of Wal."

Sarah watched as Isilia turned pale. "Do you know what is like to leave you each time I travel to the Other Hall of Half Truths? For the last few years I have been unable to leave without gut-wrenching fear of what might become of you. You are my family."

"Ilisia," another man's voice came from Aris' side. "You should go."

"Father?" Ilisia said, dumbfounded. Heads bobbed once again throughout the massive room.

"Go," a woman sounded beside the man.

"Cara? Mother?" Ilisia looked over the people of Wal. Their expressions were mirrored silent agreement that even Sarah could feel.

"Alright. If this is what you want. I will go. They are good people," she continued designating Sarah and her group. "And I am confident that if we can liberate makerkind, it is with them."

Ilisia's young face was wrought in pride and sadness as she smiled warmly at the people of Wal. Sarah released the breath hitched under her breast. Ilisia was coming with them. She was another soul to protect. She was also a powerful ally. But the weight bearing down on her was not in Ilisia's decision to join them. It was the thousand eyes assessing her now, the makers that placed their trust in her. She had to do this. For the people of Wal, for makerkind, she had to destroy the Brotherhood. Now.

::/::/::/::/::/::

"Know your opponent's weaknesses," shouted Olina in the underground training facility. It had been hidden under the Bell Tower. The stairs leading up diverged gave way to narrow passage way upon the right command. Filing in by threes, it took a full fifteen minutes to get the crowd off the threshold and into the brightly lit space. "What do we know about the Brotherhood?" Her voice resonated throughout the room.

"What do you mean, Captain?" asked a freckled woman leaning against a massive stone pillar. Her eager regard was reflected among the hundreds of makers lined up before her.

"Let's start with what they want. What is it?" she asked, turning to a man a full two heads taller than herself.

"They want to destroy us."

"Deeper than that…" she said turning to another man with thick dirty blonde hair. He looked at her with an eager expression.

"They want to rid Maker's Land of limitations. They value making above all."

"Exactly, they believe that our abilities are invaluable. Furthermore, they believe makers are superior beings to humans because of those abilities. The Brotherhood have reached so far into the dependency of making that they have overlooked the artistry in human creation. And whereas the natural curiosity among non-brotherhood makers have fostered a thirst for knowledge in human practices and inventions, the brotherhood is blind to those areas. They have spent centuries in the dark on human advancements. The telephone, automobiles, weaponry, computers. These are all items that you may have read about. A few of you have may even ventured out to the human realm to see them yourselves. I have spent years there. I have seen firsthand these marvelous creations. Their methods are time consuming, often tedious, but yield results nonetheless.

"What does that have to do with us?" the man asked running a hand through his thick mane.

"We get him where they are blind." Olina paused, looking over the crowd, uncertain if this really was the solution. "They impose force by means of making," she continued, resolving to herself that this was the only way. "We will impose on them the human way."

"You mean by human defense tactics?" a woman's voice chimed out from a line adjacent to her. The woman peered over the shoulder of a bulky red head. Her words lingered in the air, a mixture of meekness and resolution.

Olina felt her stomach lurch as acid rose up from the depths of her belly. She swallowed the nausea and hoped the sweat building on her brow was not visible to the makers before her. Not that they would blame her as the makers turned to the woman. They shared glances between Olina and the young woman peeping over thick brown lashes. She stood a little taller, feeling a thousand curious eyes upon her. Her dark hair and green eyes complimented by a forest green smock.

"Yes, exactly," Olina said quickly burying any discomfort. The young woman followed suit, her voice gaining confidence.

"Like human weaponry. They wouldn't expect it."

"Yes…Sarah. I'm referring to martial arts, sword fighting, archery, and as a last resort firearms."

 _Sarah_ Olina thought, trying to stifle a wave of emotion that came with the mention of her name. Saying Sarah's name to this woman felt like a slap every time. Every time since her love had been restored. Before that it had been a pleasure of sorts. She had conjured the memory of her daughter when she made the Sarah before her, down to every little physical trait. She was made to be mistreated as Olina had seen fit. It was a way to mock her old weak self. It was fun for the wretched Olina. The torment Olina had delighted in…the tears this Sarah had shed were so fresh in Olina's mind. Finally, when Olina grew bored of her, this Sarah had ran off, seeking refuge from Azela. The only family she could claim. Olina couldn't look at the girl without wanting to hide in shame. So there she stood in front of her town's people, across from a woman she pitied, a woman that reminded her of the evils she had done.

This Sarah no doubt sensed her mother's discomfort. The woman's green eyes flashed before her lips curled down in disappointment. Despite Olina's horrible treatment of the young woman, she still appeared desperate for her mother's approval. _Her Mother_ , Olina cringed, _No, not her mother._ Olina was not the maker lavishing a child with love, adoring with oohs and ahhs as the child grew. This Sarah was motherless. She so desperately needed love and yet Olina could only see her with eyes of pity. She loved her Sarah and this twin before her was a shiny imposter. Every one of Sarah's traits or reproduced to perfection. Yet without any semblance of the girl Olina knew. She wasn't brave but broken. She wasn't confident but desperate for approval. And with her own dear Sarah lost to her, she couldn't help but feel any attention given to this one was a betrayal to Sarah, her Sarah. She realized the complexity of their current situation. This girl, she needed a mother. In time maybe Olina could grow to love her too. But right now, this Sarah was just another fighter among the hundreds before her. The hundreds of makers ready to pick up arms because she said so. She still couldn't believe they even took her back. She was astonished they had listened so willingly. Yet the forgiveness that had come so easily from her fellow makers had been nothing compared to that of this Sarah waiting patiently for her instructions.

"Mother?" the woman said with a rigid smile. It was an uneasy forgiveness. But Olina had expected nothing greater. After all, a child made from spite was not expected to forgive.

::/::/::/::/::/::

Razwel.

The list of unaffiliated and soulless makers was very short indeed. In Jareth's past he had only met one man whom he deemed worthy of such a title. Razwel of Goldry was once a member of the Brotherhood though he had denounced affiliation after a failed mission. The Brotherhood had parted willingly with Razwel claiming he was neither friend nor foe of the cause. Razwel, in their mind, was too weak to wreak havoc and too ignorant to divulge secrets. In turn Razwel shut himself out, becoming almost a recluse. He lived in between Goldry and Cannali, one of the few makers venturing a life in NMZ.

He conversed openly with makers travelling between the towns and it was upon Jareth's travels to Other Hall of Half Truths that he had first chanced a meeting with the man. Jareth listened intently as the man divulged details about the maker's towns that cornered him. His speech was very matter-of-fact, giving no sign of disgust or partiality to either town. He reported hardship for either like it was the weather. Razwel had ventured as far once to mention his previous affiliation with the Brotherhood, only to quickly snuff out his words with a retort about a silent agreement. He seemed numb to Jareth, without any feelings on the subject, or on any subject in that matter. Communication to this man was only a solution to his boredom. Several encounters later he had not cracked the man's reserve in the slightest, and come to the conclusion that Razwel of Goldry was a man without loyalties and without purpose. His existence seemed as empty as the man's vacant stare. Now, having had his own love taken away, he wondered if Razwel wasn't another loveless soul. _Very fitting for the undertaking…_ Jareth reasoned.

What made Jareth think that Razwel was up for such a task was instinct alone. He didn't trust the Brotherhood to leave his bait unharmed. And Razwel seemed uncaring enough to inflict pain but bored enough to want to take the boy in as a charge. Furthermore, Razwel, couldn't make in NMZ, so what harm could he really do? The only true challenge for Razwel would be in keeping Tobias' presence a secret. Still, Jareth felt this was the best way to secure the boy and lure Sarah out of her mission long enough to trap her into submission. He hadn't worked out the details, but he knew Toby was the key.

Presently Toby trudged behind him hiking up his gangly legs over tall shoots of grass. Jareth had a flashback of the toddler boy following the sound of his voice through a field. What was it about this boy that made him so entirely trusting? It bewildered him, especially when the boy should be poised to be skeptical. Jareth hadn't needed to prove himself honorable…the boy eagerly followed him all in the name of finding his sister. Love is blinding, Jareth thought glad to be rid of the crippling emotion.

"Where are we?" Toby asked, his voicewavering between adolescence and manhood.

"We are on the outskirts of NMZ about an hour's journey on foot from Goldry."

"Is that in Massachusetts?"

"Boy, you travelled through a Black Hole to get here. Does that really seem like somewhere in your world?"

Toby huffed, swatting with frustration at the grass between Jareth and him. "So this Makers Land or whatever, it's another dimension?"

"Really, Tobias, can't you remember anything?" Jareth asked with feigned concern.

"No. I'm sorry. This place is all new to me."

"Well, it isn't new to you. Your sister's real mother made sure you would forget the past weeks spent with me."

"Why would she do that?"

"Because she is evil and cannot be trusted."

"But I can trust you?"

"Your sister and I have exchanged words, Tobias."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Toby asked, stumbling over large root.

"It's the equivalent of being married here. You see, we are practically brothers you and me."

"Really?" Toby asked surprised. "And how is it you are not with her now?" Jareth wondered if the question was as innocent as it seemed.

"We were separated after Olina's Speck of Dust was destroyed. Olina is your sister's mother."

"Speck of Dust?"

"Oh Tobias, we haven't the time to explain every detail of the Maker's Realm."

"Realm?"

"Toby, the important thing is that we find your sister quickly."

"And how are we doing that?"

"I think I know where she is going."

"Good, let's go there."

"It is dangerous. I will need to you stay with a friend while I meet her."

"No, absolutely not! I should go too. She's my sister!"

"This is no place for humans, Tobias. In the wrong hands your life is in grave danger. Your sister would be livid if you risked your safety, especially when I can extract her without any harm. "

"I'm already risking my safety, am I not?"

"I said no." Jareth shot back with a venomous voice. This boy did know how to test his patience. He watched as Toby recoiled before falling into silence.

"There, there," Jareth continued, concealing his ebbing tolerance, "I only meant that you should trust me. You will see your sister soon. I will see to it myself. Why else would I have gone through the trouble of tracking you down if not to reunite us all?"

"I suppose so," Toby replied with a small voice. His attention focusing on the path at his feet.

He looked convinced, Jareth thought, assessing the boy's defeated stare. Yes, Tobias was a boy with a trusting nature. His pure heart ready to follow blindly in the name of love. _What a shame,_ Jareth thought. Such a pity _,_ Toby had potential. If only Tobias wasn't compelled to be such a good little boy, he might have made a decent little brother.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

 _Ready or Not_

Toby followed the mysterious man, his eyes burning a hole in the back of his dirty blonde head. If only he could remember the enigmatic person leading him through this incredible world. The sights he had seen since his arrival had been unlike anything he could have ever imagined. Was it only ten hours ago? He looked down at his watch for the hundredth time. When he first emerged into this place he had plunged into darkness with this stranger. The stranger had demanded he follow with precision every step he took. "Not a footfall out of line," had been his exact words. The man had studied the darkness apparently seeing things that Toby could not. Mostly a straight walk into nothingness with only a few zig-zagging deviations. The man was silent and had Toby not been gripping the man's squared shoulder he might have believed he had been abandoned. Toby had never seen blackness like that. It seemed to swallow him whole. The time had crept by, the only indication of its passing a dull tick from his wrist watch. It was his father's watch. His mother had given it to him a few nights before. And since then he had only taken it off to shower. At first the constant ticking was a bittersweet reminder of his father's passing. Then, amid the nothingness, away from everything he knew, he found that the wrist watch was his sole comfort. Tick, tick, tick.

They exited the blackness and embarked on breathtaking landscapes. They passed strange emerging cities shapes and styles he had never dreamed existed, sparkling ruby waters, towering sunflowers, fields of rolling grass that was silky to the touch. The grass seemed to gleam with reflected light. And now a trail of tiny, unbreakable shells paved his way to yet another astonishing city. From a distance it looked like a vase of flowers stemming out from a patch quilt of shimmering water. But Jareth, the peculiar man with the mismatched eyes, had said they were almost there. Half way between Cannali and Goldry.

Toby didn't know what to think. Had he followed Jareth all the way here only to be stowed away with a stranger while Jareth goes and rescues his sister? Something didn't seem right. This man spoke in a way that seemed cold and calculated. But despite that, there was something putting him at ease with Jareth. Some distant memory, perhaps, that was surfacing only enough to allow Toby to believe this man to be good. He tried to probe his mind but only a residual feeling could be found. There was no doubt to him now that he and Jareth had a history. Something huge had transpired between them. It was this unexplainable inkling that pushed Toby forward now. What choice did he have in any case? Wherever they were, and however he lost his memory, he was now completely lost. Without Jareth he would not know how to find his sister, nor would he know how to find his way home. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He was at the mercy of this man. He was completely under his thumb. And to worsen his troubles, he was at war with himself. His brain told him to be wary, but his gut said to trust Jareth. Toby shook his head, trying to clear his conflicting thoughts. He trudged forward concentrating once more on the ticking of his father's wrist watch. He now had to strain his ears to pick up on the familiar tick, tick. But once he had honed in the sound, he felt an immediate wave of comfort almost as reassuring as his father's voice itself. And like that his father's voice replayed in his mind, "Always go with your gut, son. Nine times out of ten your gut has your back." _Okay,_ Toby thought. Tick, tick, tick. _Follow Jareth and do what Jareth says._ Tick,tick, tick.

::/::/::/::/::/::

Sarah couldn't believe she was here again. She was once more travelling through a black sea of void. This time following the slim and softly lit silhouette of Ilisia. The people of Wal had made them each survival packs much like the ones they had lost in Terajh's speck of dust so many moons ago. It had seemed a lifetime since she had sat across from a livid Jareth behind a toasty campfire. Stumbling into Terajh's speck of dust had been serendipitous at the time, after the near drowning of course. Terajh had been a friend, and then a foe, and seemingly a friend once more. His brother on the other hand was at the moment as unattainable as air, or a bubble. She sighed remembering the heat of his breath on her lips. In her dreams he came to her every time, but with the waking hours his memory burst into nonexistence. Sarah clutched tightly to the thin strap across her chest, pulling it closer towards her heart. If only everything she needed really was in the feather light bag. But that would be impossible, even for a maker. What she needed couldn't be collected. If only she could harness Jareth's love she'd bring it back to him and she'd make him swallow it whole. Somehow, Sarah felt that making Jareth complete again was a core component for defeating the Brotherhood. Maybe, she thought, trying to make sense of her instincts, Jareth was her strength. His belief in her made her believe in herself. When she still felt submerged with doubt Jareth was her life raft. She would just have to learn to swim. Jareth, she reminded herself, wasn't coming back. _Jareth isn't coming back_. No matter how much she tried to convince herself, Ilisia's words echoed in her mind. _Jareth lost his love. And you found it._ Sarah could feel something bubbling up from deep within, it was sweet and warm. It was soothing, and familiar. Hope. What if she could reunite Jareth with his former self? What if her dreams still could come true? She pushed down the surfacing castle in the sky. Sarah didn't have time to dream.

 _Never mind that_ , Sarah chided herself. _Today is bigger than me or Jareth combined._ She looked from one maker face to another. Their features cast in dark shadows created by the torch she carried. So many new faces, eagerly following.

"How much farther?" She asked Ilisia. The young woman before her peeked over dark spectacles that shined like black glass. They reflected Sarah's own face, her forehead creased with unease.

Ilisia knew a shortcut to the Other Hall of Half Truths. She had traveled there for her duties hundreds of times. Decades of trial and error had lead her to create the glasses that were now positioned delicately on her thin nose. She had explained to Sarah and the group that she manufactured the lenses to monitor her paces. Ilisia had marked an entrance to the Blackhole, and with many years of perfection she had recorded how many paces right and forward would bring her to the underground passage into the Other Hall of Half Truths. Her glasses also allowed her to see other specks of dust more clearly. The faint ripple let off a small electric charge, and the slight elevation in heat could be detected and through her spectacles seen as dim blue flashes. It was quite ingenious. Something only a Keeper of Truth with her thirst for knowledge could have envisioned. Jareth would be impressed, Sarah thought before she could stop herself.

"My lenses indicate we are roughly 60% through our journey," Ilisia confirmed.

"Can we stop to eat?" Holyoak asked, with a small voice. It was the first words he had mustered since having to be parted with his horses in Wal. He knew travelling may prove too difficult at times, but he hadn't expected to be separated from them so soon in their journey. Ilisia had explained that the region beyond Wal had been compromised in many towns. They wouldn't be able to cross unseen by the Brotherhood. They were certainly already expected there. And the horses were incapable of crossing the Black Hole. Even the most trusting, or serene horse would not be able to process the utter blackness. Their hooves would hit the void, they wouldn't understand how they could move. They were not floating, they were not swimming and it would drive them mad. It could drive even the sanest maker mad if forced to withstand the blackness for long. If all you see is void above, below and beyond how long till you question your own existence. Nothing exists. Am I real?

A chill shot down Sarah's spine. Stopping to eat and rest was necessary. They had been walking for so many hours. Her legs ached. She wanted nothing more but to sit down. But stopping like this in this creepy space was far from tempting.

"I think it would be a good idea to stop and rest," Aris affirmed in her ear.

"We shouldn't rest too long here," Knightly added, evidently sharing Sarah's discomfort.

Ilisia nodded in comprehension. "It does take some getting used to. But Sarah, do I feel a change in shifting in you? Your energy is suddenly so determined."

"I was just thinking," Sarah began, "I think I need a break from this place. It's so vast yet so entirely suffocating at the same time." Sarah could feel her breath becoming labored. "I'm wondering if I could try something. I did it once before without meaning to. I know a speck of dust needs a dreaming human and a maker of sorts. But somehow as half maker and human I managed to make my home once, here. I can't remember how it began. How did I manage to tap into that power? I know I was desperate…" Sarah stopped her breathing catching in her chest. She played back the moment in her mind trying to allow the depths of her emotions back in, but all the pushing and prying still was met with crowd of curious makers enrobed in darkness. She closed her eyes, allowing her breathing to slow once more. The makers around her grew silent. Someone extinguished her torch. She was there in the dark and felt utterly isolated, deserted, alone.

"No, not alone Sarah," Jareth's voice cooed "I'm still here. I'm always still here."

Oh, Jareth, Sarah thought, I miss you so much.

"Your friends need you, Sarah."

I know.

"Just open your mind up, allow your memories of a favorite place to filter in. Try to remember the details, the rest will fall in place."

Sarah kept her eyes closed as she recreated in her mind. She was in a pasture near her childhood home. She would take Toby there. There was a plaid blanket under her. The grass was the bright green of early spring and touched by dew. There was a willow tree in the distance where she and Toby would play. And the sky was a soft blue and feathered with white clouds. She had the image in her mind, but opening her eyes would mean another aching goodbye.

"I'm always still here," Jareth repeated.

Sarah eyes fluttered open and she squinted harshly from the bright light. When her eyes adjusted, she met the gazes of the awestruck makers. They were in the pasture, all of them standing in her memory like they had always been there.

"Oh my cosmos," Willa said breaking the silence. Knightly was standing next to her and staring at Sarah as if seeing her for the first time.

"Yeah, this will do just fine," Holyoak said, sitting himself on the blanket.

Aris came over placing an encouraging hand on Sarah's shoulder, "You should be proud, Sarah, you are learning how to really control your gift."

"If you ask me you, are freaking scary." Terajh said, plopping down next Holyoak. "What did you get?" he asked, eyeing the boys' lunch he had pulled out from his survival pack.

" I won't be needing these for a bit," Ilisia added removing her spectacles. "This is perfect Sarah, well done."

Aris nudged Trothe whose mouth was still open in awe. "Yea, indeed," he mustered.

Sarah blushed as the gushing continued, her mind trying to escape the accolades. She didn't know what to do with their praise. To her she was just Sarah. Not this super hybrid, prophecy wielding warrior.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you," Knightly's voice said softly near her ear. It rang so sincerely and humbly that Sarah felt a jolt of something kicking her from the inside.

"Excuse me?" Sarah said her cheeks hot as fire. This was too much. She didn't even know she valued his good opinion. But here having it declared she felt a weight lifted, and a small giddiness rising under her chest.

"I was only concerned for my family," he continued.

"Of course you were. It's only natural."

She looked over her long lashes at Knightly's softened expression. Knightly believed in her. He was so determined not to and here he was stripped of all distrust. If she had managed to convince him, she could most certainly convince herself. It seemed with every passing day the Sarah she knew and the Sarah they saw were not the same. It was as if her life had been spent in slumber, teetering on awareness. It was the shallow sleep just before waking. You hear, you feel, you smell, you decode every sense in your semi-conscious state. The knowledge you obtain is interpreted into your dream. It has logic of its own. And suddenly something no longer fits and you are jarred awake. It was like that. It was like Sarah couldn't be whole until she was completely aware. Now a new challenge would present itself. How does a girl who suddenly learns she is capable of greatness maintain a certain level of humility?

She smiled at Knightly, "You know what this means, right?"

"That you are the girl from the prophecy?"

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, maybe? But that's not what I was suggesting."

"Oh. What were you suggesting?" Knightly asked with amusement.

"It means you and I are friends."

Knightly donned a cheeky grin, "Does it?"

"It doesn't?"

"Yes, of course it does. I am honored to be your friend. And, I'm at your service, Sarah."

Humble indeed. Sarah thought. How do I keep a level head when everyone looks at me like that?

::/::/::/::/::/::

All his life Holyoak had used his gift with moderation. It was the way of his clan and he never once questioned the customs of his people. He learned to weave with painstaking precision. It never came naturally to him. His fingers felt too clumsy for such detailed work, and his mind always wandered from the task at hand. His body ached to move and to run but he labored quietly among his maker friends. Certainly they were all feeling the same aching frustration; the restraint of custom was an unspoken rite of passage. With time he grew complacent in mind as well and even ventured to convince Willa of the benefits of such tedious creations. But being with the makers now…Sarah with her amazingly strong and unharnessed gift, Ilisia with her uncanny ability to read the people around her. And though Holyoak had never seen the other's make, Aris, Terajh, Trothe, Knightly and Willa all seemed to possess something he did not. It was air of confidence, like they were at peace with themselves. There manners held no uncertainy, no meekness. It was like they knew themselves, and what they were capable of and that carried such power. More so than making, more so than creating. Holyoak felt that, until now, he had been stifled and although he couldn't make in his current situation he felt being open about his abilities was liberating. He wondered if Sarah felt the same way. Granted this was something that had plagued Holyoak his whole life, something he had buried long ago but never truly left. It was dull ache that was just accepted. He didn't want admit it aloud, because saying it now would mean going against the will of his clan, the people he loved. It made him sad to think that there may be others like him. Others that, if they could choose…would they choose differently? Holyoak felt certain he would.

Holyoak knew the others were thinking he was still wrapped up in his horses. And though leaving behind the stallions was difficult, he was reassured that the people of Wal would bring them back to Guidion. They wouldn't know the first thing about caring for such animals. No, now Holyoak's silence was due to his own reverie. Willa pulled up beside him, catching his hand in hers as they continued their trudge through the Black Hole. They were so close, Holyoak could even feel a strong pulse of energy pulling at them from the direction they were heading. The communal pace had quickened in response.

"Holyoak?" Willa said, her voice laden in concern.

Holyoak squeezed her hand in reply.

"Do you regret coming?" she asked softly. He knew the others were listening, but somehow sharing such an intimate journey made privacy seem entirely overvalued. Even for a Guidion.

"No," he said quickly. "Not for a second. Willa, have I ever told you how much I admire you?"

Holyoak could hear Knightly clearing his throat behind him. Clearly he wasn't as comfortable with their intimacy.

"Awe, Holy. I admire you too."

"Why?" his question came so spontaneously that he could feel Willa jerk beside him. He looked over making out her surprised expression in the dim light of Sarah's torch. "I'm sorry. That question isn't fair. I've had time to think about this, you haven't."

"You've thought about this? Did you make a list?" Willa teased.

"You have the biggest heart of anyone I know." Another dry cough sounded in the darkness, followed by light slapping sound. It appeared not everyone shared Knightly's discomfort. "You put everyone else first. You invest in people. You set aside your own baggage and you see the person in front of you with such clarity. You listen. You genuinely care. And you do this with so much grace, and in astoundingly confident way." His voice hitched on the word confident. He half expected Knightly to thump him on the head after his gushing, but Knightly seemed to allow it.

"Thank you, Holyoak. I'm kind of glad you can't really see me right now. I'm sure my face is frightfully red."

"I see you just fine, and to me you are the most beautiful sight ever seen."

A huff sounded from behind him. _Oh, big brothers._ "Ok, I'm done, Knightly, you can relax now."

Willa giggled. "Don't mind him, Holyoak, he's just jealous that he doesn't have anyone to lavish with compliments."

"I think that's enough, now." Knightly said, finding his voice. "I don't really need to hear every…"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Ilisia said stopping suddenly, "but we are here. Just a few paces more and you will pass into the Aisles of Ingress. It's the underground entrance to the Other Hall."

"We are here," Sarah resounded with a breathy voice.

"Just a reminder," Ilisia continued, "the Brotherhood could be waiting and ready, or could be on their way. We should all be prepared."

"Yes," Aris continued, "Sarah and Ilisia will enter the Other Hall, Trothe and I will head up to the main entrance. Willa, Knightly and Holyoak, you will stay down here to avert any problems."

"Very well," Knightly replied.

"Oh, our very own chaperone, Holyoak," Willa teased.

"No chaperones here," Aris said, "We need every able maker alert and ready. Remember where you are. You aren't in NMZ anymore, you're not in the Black Hole, or in your town."

"I understand," Holyoak said.

"Do you?" Ilisia asked, her question was without malice. "It means you can make here. We can defend ourselves without consequence. You can make, Holyoak."

"I can make." Holyoak said as if trying out the words for the first time. "Yes, I can," he tried to hide his bubbling excitement. But the feeling of liberation was of no means a simple sensation. No, it was one that could transform. Holyoak used to wear his meekness like a second skin. Underneath the surface his soul raged to be freed, until now. The transfigured Holyoak bore a radiant smile. "Bring on the Brotherhood," he said with a determined, confident air. Today was a good day to be a maker. Today, Holyoak would make without restraint.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

 _Double Dupe_

"Watch your step," Jareth said to Toby as he yanked at the boy's wrist. Toby jolted, pulling his left foot from a swamp of green muck.

"What is it?" he asked, trying to wipe his sneakers with the mix of shells and dirt on the pathway.

"Run off from the Cannali crystal waters, it becomes thick and sticky when their water stagnates like that. But as long as it's running, the water is harmless, revitalizing really. The source in Cannali generates plenty of vitamins and nutrients for the makers there. Razwel undoubtably installed himself here with that in mind." Jareth nodded his head toward the building looming closer towards them with every stride. Building, Toby thought, was an overstatement.

The man had a crooked home. Toby had been studying the house since it emerged into view twenty minutes ago. With every step the abode's form was more prominent, and with every glance the shoddy craftsmanship became more and more apparent. It wasn't a house, Toby thought, it was a shack. It looked as sturdy as a house of Popsicle sticks. And the size…well, it couldn't be larger than one room.

"Are we sure that is where your friend lives?"

"He isn't my friend. And yes, that is where we are going."

"And you want me stay there with him until you return?" Toby gulped, hoping the home's owner was more appealing than his place of residence.

"It's perfect. Hiding in plain sight. No one would think to look for you there."

"Are people looking for me?"

"Not yet."

"Why would anyone be looking for me?"

"You ask far too many questions."

Toby sighed, his eyes once again raking over a metallic, windowless wall. It reminded him of a tin roof propped on its side. On the far side Toby could see the metal was leaned onto an adjoining rock wall with two small openings akin to a door and window. He squinted into the near distance, they were almost there, but Toby would give anything to see the houses occupant before he saw them. If the man was as shady as his dwelling Toby would bolt. Wouldn't he? Toby couldn't seem to make anything out apart from dark shadows in the open doorway. What exactly lay beyond the shabby façade? Toby was so wrapped up in trying to unravel the peculiarities of the house and its owner that he stopped looking where he was going.

"Watch out!" Jareth shouted sharply.

Startled, Toby jumped in his place, his feet landing squarely in mud.

"Oh, that's brilliant," Jareth continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What?" Toby shot back in frustration. "So what? I'll just take off my shoes before entering his house."

"You really are rather dim," Jareth said flatly.

"I'm not sure my sister would want her boyfriend talking to me like…" Toby bit back his words, the earth was moving under his feet. No, his feet were sliding deeper and further from the path.

"What is this, quicksand?" he asked, trying to tame the panic mounting in his chest. Having finally pried his eyes from the shack Toby now could see the land around them was covered with pits of mud.

"No, it's just run off from Cannali as I said before, it's sticky and it's also slimy. Toby's legs were knee deep in muck and he could feel his body losing its balance in the large puddle of goo. He began to topple over. Oh, no, Toby thought, My father's watch! His feet were slipping and his body was giving way. He was going to fall in. "Don't help me or anything!" Toby shot his watch hand high over his head, and dove his other hand in the slime to steady himself. He could feel Jareth casually pulling at his dry arm. Toby managed to find his footing once more, and pulled himself up out of the mud pit.

"It isn't deep," Jareth said, stepping far away from the muck covered Toby. "I knew you would manage just fine."

"Thanks."

"What's that?" Jareth asked nodding to Toby's wrist watch.

"I'm covered in mud and now you want to talk?"

"It seems important to you."

"I suppose it is," Toby scowled. No he wouldn't favor Jareth with more on the subject. What did Sarah see in this man anyway? Toby huffed, looking down at his filthy clothes, "You forgot to mention it smells bad too."

"Well, no matter, you are only a few minutes from running water." Jareth turned on his heels and continued down toward the shack, leaving Toby dripping in his discontent.

::/::/::/::/::/::

Jareth sat in the only chair the small room possessed. It was hard and wobbly, and though Jareth felt inclined to stand, he resisted the urge. He had spotted Razwel on the horizon a few minutes before. Ducking into the shadows, he centered the chair in the middle of the room, sat down and waited for Razwel to find him. The minutes seemed to stretch on for hours and he shifted impatiently in the creaky chair. For Jareth sitting in Razwel's chair was a power play. He would sit there in perfect control, waiting like a snake for its prey. But Razwel was still not in striking range and Jareth had not yet had the opportunity to bask in the man's unsettled disposition. The sound of running of water filled the small room. To Jareth in that moment, it sounded like sand draining from an hour glass. Hurry, Jareth thought, feeling the metal of Toby's watch heavy in his pocket. He had sent the boy to shower off and under the guise of bringing him a towel he had slipped the item into his trouser pocket. He felt certain the shower would be winding down very shortly. When Toby was out, Jareth should be gone. He huffed, how long could it take to walk a few hundred yards? Jareth cursed under his breath standing up from the chair with a jolt. He didn't have time to wait for Razwel any longer. Intimidation be damned; he stormed out of the shelter and into the blaring day.

Razwel was bent over a small garden pulling up carrots and dusting them off before placing them in a worn basket. No wonder, Jareth huffed. Perhaps he could counter with the element of surprise, he thought, walking stealthily towards the preoccupied man. Luck, however, had not been in Jareth's favor as the man stood up, stretched and swiped a bead of sweat from his brow, his gaze falling on the house and then the approaching Jareth.

"Jareth of Jorg," Razwel said with an empty expression.

"Razwel of nowhere."

"Passing through?"

"I've brought you a gift."

Razwel looked at Jareth's empty hands, "Have you? Is it something I would like?"

"I think you will find it entertaining."

"Where is it then?"

"It's there," Jareth said pointing back to the man's house. "Inside." Jareth smiled at Razwel's confused expression. "I must be going now. I will be back to collect it later. Oh, and Razwel, you must keep this gift a secret. It is crucial to your safety and the safety of your gift that you speak of your gift to no one."

"Why would you bring me a gift, Jareth of Jorg? I don't believe I particularly like your gifts."

"Come now, you haven't even met him yet," Jareth finished, turning sharply on his heels.

"Him? It's a him? Jareth what have you gotten me into?" Razwel watched as Jareth waved him off with his hand. "Jareth?!" he shouted after, looking between his acquaintance and his home.

Jareth's smile was wry as he walked casually away. He handled that surprisingly well. Razwel had been very easy to play indeed. But now, Jareth needed to hurry. Toby was undoubtedly coming out of the shower and realizing his watch was missing. Jareth had no way of explaining the necessity of this item. To Toby, if Jareth and Sarah were really on good terms Sarah would trust that Toby was in harm's way. Jareth wouldn't have to show proof. The watch was the key. The less Jareth had to explain the better. Jareth was ready to run…but running in front of Razwel would weaken Jareth's power. So he bid his time and fought against the impulse to look back. Instinct told him that Razwel wouldn't stay immobile, calling after Jareth. Curiosity would seize him and he would of course go running into his home. Five…four….three…two…one. Jareth tilted his head slowly over his shoulder. Razwel was gone. Jareth began to run.

::/::/::/::/::/::

Somewhere deep down Toby knew he should get out of the cold shower. He had scoured his skin and hair with a strange spongy plant that had been planted strategically near the natural watering hole. The room was filled with the bloom's sugary scent. And a quick yet fruitless search for soap had led him to deduce the meaning of the moist and squishy plants presence. Tugging the fat bloom from its stem, Toby was surprised to feel a jet of warm syrupy gel strike his chest before sliding down the rocks beneath his feet and draining into the ground below. The next bloom he had grasped and pulled delicately between his palms; it felt strange pulsating in his hands as if alive and still connected to the stem. He wanted to drop the plant. But his body and hair dripping with foul smelling mud implored him to lather, rinse, repeat. After a time, his body had adjusted to the cold water, and the bloom's scent and texture was not only refreshing but appeared to have a calming effect. Toby felt so entirely relaxed. Every cell in his body seemed pleasantly numb. The stress and worry from his journey had evaporated. He didn't want to move- he only wanted to feel the cool water running over him, and to smell the intoxicating scent from that marvelous plant.

"Hey!"

Toby jumped, at the man's strange gravelly voice.

"What in the stars are you doing in my water den?"

"I…I…" Toby saw a man emerge from the doorway, his green eyes flashing in the shadows. He drew closer to Toby, all angles and dark hair. He looked savage with anger and for a moment Toby forgot himself entirely.

"Snap out of it," the man said, wrenching Toby from his paradise. "Don't you know Angel Snares can only be used for short periods? 2 minutes tops! Get dressed!" The man shouted, tossing a towel to Toby.

Toby stood for a moment dripping water onto a gently slanted and slate-like floor. The haze in his brain began to lift, his first clear impulse to cover his naked body. He could feel the heat of embarrassment rising to his cheeks. It wasn't as if he was modest. He changed in gym class with the other boys all the time. But he was just caught standing there stark naked, under cold water, in front a complete stranger. He toweled off quickly, yearning for his clothes. His mud soaked clothes. Crap. Could this get worse? "My clothes are soaked in mud," he found himself saying, apologetically. Wait, what did he have to be sorry for? The embarrassment and shame shifted to anger. This was all Jareth's fault. He could have warned him, first about the mud, and then about the plant. He could have set him out some clean clothes. What did his sister see in him? Toby was jarred by the man's increasingly furrowed brow.

"Now you want my clothes? Do you want the ones off my back? Will that suit you, whatever your name is? What is this game you and Jareth are playing? You come here and he just leaves you here? Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Wait, what? Jareth left?"

"Now you are playing the ignorant card? What the holy sparks are you doing in my home? Who are you? And why am I supposed to keep you a secret?"

Toby felt his stomach hit the slate floor. Jareth just left him here? In Maker's Land? With a strange man? In a strange hut? No instructions, no details, no goodbye? He just bloody left. Toby felt like punching the wall, instead he found himself clinging tightly to his towel as he lunged out of the watering den and into the Jareth-less shack. He ran barefoot outside Razwel's residence and stood dumbstruck looking in every direction for a sign of Jareth. No, there was no Jareth to be found. Toby inhaled sharply before spewing out a series of vulgar curse words that he had only read about and never before dared to use.

"Okay, let's say for arguments sake that I believe your little charade. You didn't know of Jareth's plan." The man said from behind him. Toby swerved to see the man's livid face transforming into something almost composed. The light of day showed this man to be handsome but in an uncanny way. The lines in his face, and the arch of his brow didn't show any trace of kindness or malice. He seemed shrouded in mystery. And Toby wondered if he would prove to be friend or foe. Currently, at least, they seemed to share in their capacity to be duped by Jareth. "Even if you are ignorant and, I daresay, a victim of Jareth's scheming, I still would like to know to who you are and what, pray tell, you are doing in my home."

Home? Toby thought, looking beyond the man into the shack. "I'm Tobias Williams. I'm human and I'm looking for my sister, Sarah Williams. Her mother is Olina, apparently. I mean, it's all new to me, before she was Linda. Jareth is helping me to find Sarah. Or so he said before he left me here without warning." Toby watched the man's placid expression. "I'm sorry to be a burden," he added, not sure what to say. "I hate to trouble you, sir, uhm…Razwel…is it?" Toby shifted, feeling suddenly even more uncomfortable by the man's passive stare. "Uhmm… do you think, maybe…please…" Am I grovelling? Could this get worse? Toby thought before finally managing to spit out, "Could I pleeeaase have some clothes?"

* * *

Author's notes: thanks for reading, readers...and thank you HW for your continued proofreading. More chapters soon.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

 _The lights at the end of the tunnel_

Sarah tiptoed painstakingly down a pearly tunnel. Every footfall echoed loudly in her inner-ear rivaled only by the thumping of her own beating heart. She worried that her footsteps would alert the Brotherhood perhaps standing by only around the bend. Sarah felt a reassuring hand graze her shoulder. Ilisia smiled and shook her head no to Sarah's unspoken question. Ilisia didn't sense the Brotherhood. And although Sarah felt relief at Ilisia's silent declaration, she was also annoyed by her intrusion. Ilisia shrugged as if to say, "Sorry, but it's out of my control." Sarah sighed, Ilisia wasn't her real concern. Any annoyance at her was misdirected. The truth was Sarah felt sick with worry. There was something almost prophetic in her discomfort. Even with her certainty that their plan was precisely what was required she knew there was doom etched in their future as well. Something was to go right. And something else terribly wrong. She pushed herself forward through glossy narrowing tunnel. Keeping her intuition at bay, she concentrated on treading lightly. The hall around her shrunk with every step. Sarah imagined this was what it would be like to walk in a giant winding shell. Where was it taking her this time? The Hall of Half Truths had her speaking with herself. She was an old woman growing younger as the sands of time slipped through an hourglass. This was already nothing like that journey. Ilisia stopped, and Sarah turned to face the young and beautiful girl. "One more bend," her crystal voice clipped the silence, "And you must go alone."

"I know," Sarah heard herself say. She did know. Whatever the Other Hall had to say, it was for her alone. Like the last time. Some things do stay the same. Ilisia squeezed Sarah's hand and let go.

She wouldn't say goodbye. She would be right back. Sarah, walked gingerly forward and followed the natural bend of the shell-like hall. The ceiling above her drew down so low that she had to tilt her head, when the bend stopped, she perceived a door. A small door at the end of the hall. So small she slumped to her knees and crawled to the entry. She stopped, balled up a fist, and knocked three times. The door creaked open to expose a well of black. Sarah sighed again, dread building in her. She gulped and crawled forward. The air was damp and the room was still black. In the distance, or maybe right next to her, Sarah could hear the sound water dripping. Soft drops of water gradually splattering as if from a leaky faucet. She ventured forward - could she rise? Before Sarah could move, she heard a door slam behind her, followed by a gushing sound. Seconds later she was engulfed by water, waves rocking her, as she propelled herself ,Sarah swam instinctually. Her lungs burned to breathe and she feared she wouldn't make it. Every impulse within wanted to gasp in the black water, still she resisted as her insides began to ache. Just when she thought the end had found her, her head ripped through the surface of the water, and she gulped hungrily for air. When her lungs felt satisfied, her legs suddenly found bottom. She stood, now on her tip-toes, a head above the black water. Her gaze flickered from dark abyss to black. When she began to give up hope of seeing anything, a dim light began grow above her head. The light grew and with it a silhouette emerged. A girl with long silver hair stared down at Sarah from a protruding rock formation. She appeared to be no older than eight-years-old and her tear stained face was creased with pain. Even by half-light Sarah recognized her right away. She was the girl playing with her brother in her dream. Was it a dream?

"Truth is pain," the girl said flatly with silent tears dripping into the rippling waters below. "Truth is pain and I don't play anymore."

Looking at the pitiful girl Sarah could feel something horrible growing within her. A terrible grief that began to fester under her breast. This was more than empathy, Sarah realized within a second of capturing the girl's gaze. She tore her eyes away. And the sadness ebbed. _Another gifted child_ Sarah thought, _this one capable of_ _projecting_ _her own feelings on others._

"Go away!" the girl screeched, arresting Sarah's startled gaze. Sarah could feel the anger surmounting within, an explosion of electricity pulsing through her mind.

"You go away!" Sarah yelled, her arms flying down and forcing the water beneath up and over their heads in a tide of rage that came crashing down around them. The girls stumbled back in surprise and their locked gaze was broken.

"Who are you?" the girl's voice quivered behind the locks of silver wet hair. "You are coming for me now? You have snuffed the life light of my brother. Pray, make it quick." The girl's fleeting eye contact with Sarah revealed fear replaced with resignation. She swiped a trembling hand over the clinging strands of her silver hair. Lowering her head she revealed the softness of her neck and closed her eyes, waiting for the swipe of a blade that wouldn't come.

This girl sitting in the Other Hall of Half Truth, Sarah deduced, was the guardian of truth and knowledge. Sarah also realized the girl was laboring under the terrible throngs of a lie. She didn't know how she had seen what she had seen in her vision. But she had already seen this girl. And she had seen her brother. Her brother had said "find me." Sarah knew without a doubt, he was very much alive.

Sarah didn't know where to begin to explain her instincts to this strange, unworldly girl but she knew she must try. She also knew that the girl was coming with her.

Sarah moved slowly through the water watching the girl as she clenched her eyes closed with determined resolution. She managed to reach the rocks edge and slipped a gentle, soothing hand over the girl's foot.

"I'm not here to hurt you. I did not hurt your brother," Sarah heard herself say; "I believe you have been lied to. And I believe your brother to be very much still alive."

The girl let out a breathy sigh before her eyes flickered open and locked with Sarah's. The confusion they shared was instantaneous and as soon as she felt it, she couldn't reason if the feelings were emitting from her or the girl. Her thoughts became so cloudy, images of the boy, images of a man with red thick beard cradling the girl, soothing her, images of the tree where they would play, her brother and her. Her brother and Sarah. Sarah felt so lost within herself that she hadn't registered the trembling that permeated her until it was a violent shake. She felt the ground beneath her shaking, the water began to stir violently. Rocks began to plummet into the water from above. Still Sarah couldn't tell if it was coming from her or happening to her. A rock crashed down and splintered between them, ripping apart their fused stare. Sarah shot up with a jolt. The world around them continued to destruct. Sarah didn't know how it was happening. Had she been responsible, or had it been the girl? Or was something else entirely? The Brotherhood? She didn't have to think - she lunged forward managing to grasp the fearful girl and pulled her down into the water.

"Breathe!" Sarah yelled before she dove in pulling the girl down to the depths of the water where she hoped the door would be easy to find. She craved air, but a light shown just a few yards before her. The door was open. Sarah pushed the girl forward, the two swimming frantically to emerge on the other side. The water disappeared. Sarah lay flat next to the girl and at the feet of Ilisia. She yelled down at them, something hard to hear through her water logged ear. Pulling at them, Ilisia words finally met Sarah's ears. "Run! Both of you! Run!"

::/::/::/::/::/::

"Stay to the right, line yourself up behind the pillar and keep your eyes glued to the entry at twelve o'oclock. Each of us has our zone to survey. Hands up and ready to make." Knightly's barked orders were in constant replay in Holyoak's mind. Under regular circumstances, Holyoak might take offense at Knigthly's blatant show of superiority, but in this moment, Holyoak was glad to have the thinking done for him. His nerves were on high alert, his skin was pins and needles. Silence reigned which seemed to only fuel the unsettling atmosphere. Less than half an hour ago he was wallowing in the knowledge that he had never truly made. He had envied his new friends, their sense self awareness, of self composure. Upon learning that he could make without consequence here, he felt elation at the possibility of realizing a dream he hadn't even dared to acknowledge before. Now, as the minutes passed by, he was all nerves. Sarah and the others had left to fulfill their parts in the plan. Holyoak, Willa and Knightly remained to cover this entrance. And therein lay the source of his unease. He too, had a very crucial part in this mission. He felt all thumbs as he braced his hands before him. Ready and waiting for whatever, or whomever, may or may not come. The uncertainty of it all felt so terribly electrifying that it charged every ounce of his being with dread. He couldn't think of anything else. He wanted to cool his anxiety with thoughts of Willa. He tried to push past the overpowering fear by trying to replay the day they first met. It wasn't so long ago. She was with her mother at the Basket Festival…she wore a yellow flowered dress…and…it was no use. Holyoak could feel the wave of nerves clawing at his memory. One of the most special memories he possessed. He grimaced, no he wouldn't allow his current mood tarnish that memory. Holyoak ceded to his anxiety. Whatever he felt, hopefully it would only aid in any potential warring he must make.

Time seemed so horribly long. And with each minute the silence felt more deafening, like it was it screaming in his ears. _Be afraid,_ it seemed to yell. _You're not good enough. How can you help them?!_ It was so dreadful that Holyoak almost smiled when he heard the voices, until his brain caught up to his nerves. Voices, low manly voices, this was a real reason to dread. He didn't dare peel his eyes from his assigned zone. He was certain the Brotherhood would appear for him. As if they could target the weakest link. The voices grew louder and his arms became stiff with anticipation. _I can do this. I can do this. I have the element of surprise._ It seemed like the voices were coming from everywhere at once. Still he didn't move.

He heard a gasp, a tumbling, followed by a "Hey!" Holyoak couldn't understand - where were they? Where were the men? He finally managed to rip his gaze away in the moment he heard Willa scream out. He whirled back around the other side of his pillar to see her spinning through the air. Knightly was running towards a group of a hundred or so of the Brotherhood's men filtering in, before being cast through air, landing squarely next to his sister. The Brotherhood had entered on the far side, almost completely out of view from Holyoak; their backs turned to him. There were too many, a sea of black clad, mocking men. Willa started to steady herself once more, grabbing at her side in pain whilst Knightly jumped up, his arms braced before him, sending blows too weak for the mass. Holyoak watched as Knightly and Willa backed up, straight to the corridor where Ilisia and Sarah had gone. The mission was over. _My beautiful Willa,_ he thought seeing her clear as day in her yellowed dress, _she's gone_. They were outnumbered fifty to one, Holyoak thought, _no. Not fifty to one. I'm here too. And I count for something._ And in that moment Holyoak felt the metamorphism of his nerves. The wave of fear had mutated into fury. They would not get Willa, they would not kill their mission. Holyoak could feel the seeds of a plan. He had an awful, wonderful idea. He still had the element of surprise. The Brotherhood had finished gathering and the lot of them were pushing in towards each other, angling for a better view. The mass had found itself centered still in the underground entry, inside the Aisles of Ingress. Above their heads the ceiling was composed of low, thick lying stones. Holding the stones into place appeared to be two large beams, as it were they seemed to buckle under the weight. If only he could reach that first beam hanging menacingly over the angry Brotherhood's heads. Holyoak tried to break it. He tried to remember how it felt to chop into two the trees and plants they had planted for their use in Guidion. But bamboo was nothing compared to this massive force. Maybe if he could get closer… It was death sentence, he knew it. But saving their mission, saving Willa, in his eyes it was more than worth it. And with the stealth of only a man from the Guidion clan, Holyoak joined the mob of the Brotherhood from behind, unnoticed and prepared.

"Willa!" he yelled over the mob, "I love you." He thrust his hands above his head. "Run!" he yelled as the eyes of the Brotherhood tore towards him. But it was too late for them. With every ounce of unhampered, unexploited, unharnessed maker's strength within him, Holyoak, drew the weight of the Aisles of Ingress down on his head. Brotherhood be damned.

::/::/::/::/::/::

"Nooooooooo!" Ilisia heard the wail echo down the corridor amid the thundering sound of stones crumbling below. Her attention was divided between the ruckus coming towards her and the door behind which Sarah had disappeared. Her decision was made in a flash as she bent down to her knees ripped the door open, surprised to find a wall of water. She reached her hand out expecting to find the glass of a tank and instead found it was wet to her touch. She yelled for Sarah into the wetness, knowing full well it was ineffective. She heard the patter of running feet. The sobbing and yelling of Willa. She could feel her grief. Holyoak was gone. "Sarah!" she yelled again. When Ilisia was ready to climb into the water herself she a saw a hand emerge and she yanked backwards. Moments later a second body glided through the doorway. Ilisia now saw clearly the two forms before her. Sarah and that of a young girl. She yelled at Sarah to move. Something terrible was happening. It seemed the whole structure was trembling. And as Sarah became conscious of her surroundings, she scurried out of the low hanging corridor pushing along the dumbfounded girl.

"We are stuck here, Sarah," Ilisia said, "We can't go that way." A large crash responded in confirmation behind them.

Sarah looked at Knightly and Willa, a wave of concern written on her face, "Where is Holyoak?"

Knightly shook his head, solemnly.

"There is no time." Ilisia said, sorry she had to say it. "We need to get out of here, now. Did you see the entry on the other side of the Knowledge Chamber?"

"I couldn't hardly see anything!" Sarah yelled over the approaching clangor. "Only her."

"What about her? Does she know the way?" Knightly asked. He looked towards the young girl, and said, "Do you know a way out?" she returned his gaze and Knightly shown a flash of turmoil like Ilisia had never seen. Strangely the only feeling she felt from the shared expression was from the girl. She shook her head, now was not the time for her gift. She needed Sarah's gift.

"I don't think she is in a state to help us," Ilisia said, turning to Sarah. "You need to break us out of here. I think you are the only one strong enough."

Sarah looked at her with an urgent, frightened air. Ilisia could feel Sarah's resolve swallowing her fear. The pearly surface fractured some. Splintering in web like patterns from where Sarah's hand pushed on its glossy facade. Her eyes were sealed shut, her mouth strained and her body rigid as she poured every bit of her power into the bones of the Other Hall. It wasn't surprising that the wall would resist. They were inside the core of a structure deemed worthy of housing half the Maker's Realm's of knowledge. And secrets. The Aisles of Ingresse could fall but the Chamber of Knowledge was primordial. Sarah was looking pale, and Ilisia could feel the doubt seeping into the Savior's heart. She looked at Knightly and with a nod they placed their hands next to Sarah's. Willa wiped at the flow of tears, and with a whimper and a face contorted in a mix of pain and rage, she punched the wall, leaving her fist indented on the shell. The young girl who was now trapped in a cage of hands flattened against the wall looking from maker to maker before settling her own little palm just beneath the others. The wall shattered, showering down bits of iridescent shards around their feet. The ceiling of the inner chamber began to crack, and chunks of the heavy shell crashed down behind them. Sarah, keeled over and Knightly swept down whisking her up in his arms before they all barreled down their maker-made exit. They zipped by rows of shattered corridors, speeding through the Other Hall as the ceiling continued to fall at their heels.

They had finally reached the main entrance and were greeted by the shouts of Aris and Trothe. "This way," they beckoned, Trothe falling behind to swoop up the winded little girl Ilisia was trying to encourage forward.

"Holyoak!?" Aris yelled, her face wrought in fear, as she looked at her maker friends.

"He's dead, okay!? He's just dead!" Willa's voice was all anger and bitterness as she sped forward crashing through the doors of the main entrance.

The group ran in silence with every step bringing them further from the demise of Other Hall of Half Truths until the destruction sounded no more. They were in the Cerulean Forest. Ilisia loved this forest, though being here now seemed like a mockery of what they had just witnessed. They followed a path lit by twinkling cerulean lights that filtered between leaves of trees or blades of grass. Sometimes the lights would come very close, just to zip away as eyes cast their way. Some makers fancied they were fairies, others said they were modified versions of the human realms lightning bugs. Ilisia had never discovered that truth. Walking through this forest alone she always felt so serene, and though she wasn't sure, she liked to believe it was her gift reading the spirits of the cerulean lights. The forest was breathtaking but among her friends she couldn't feel a single person capable of appreciating its beauty at this time. What she felt now was not serenity. She only felt misery, fear, and devastation. She wished she could do something to help. But this was beyond Ilisia. They needed time. They needed a place to hide. They had to discuss what happened. And to see what was to happen next. But Ilisia had never ventured off the path here. Everything beyond the cerulean lit path seemed like a dark tangle of ominous woods. Woods so thick you couldn't pass. Or could you? Ilisia had barely finished her thought before the cerulean lights had swept up in flurry and darted between two thick bushes. She could barely see their lights through the thick overlay of vines. But instinct told her to follow the lights. She brushed away the overgrowth, to find the cerulean lights tracing a hidden path. She knew instinctively this was where they were meant to go. Ilisia broke the silence of her defeated friends.

"This way," she said, knowing that no one had the courage to question. They followed the lights. And Ilisia knew the lights would bring her friends to some semblance of peace.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth, Sarah, Jareth, or Toby.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

 _I belong to you_

The Maker's Realm map attached to Azela's dining room wall was old and incomplete. Olina had added the towns she knew of and had even sought information from the Keeper of Truth of Cannali, but it appeared the makers of Cannali had nearly closed all ties with the rest of Maker's Land. Azela had said something about changing times, and the Keeper of Truth had muttered something about the accusing stares from other communities. It didn't take long before Olina realized she was the source of their opted isolation. Olina's terror inducing reputation had evidently stained the image of Cannali. "Mavius sent word." Azela's voice made Olina jump. Olina was lost in her own head, trying to bridge the gap between Voldezna and Lyat. She was sure there was a town in between.

"Has he news?" Olina asked, tearing her furrowed regard away from the puzzle to her mother.

"See for yourself," Azela said, projecting a small cylinder at the wall. She waved her hand in front of a clear lens. "It was smart of you to have made our prints for Mavius. What was the word you used?"

"Encrypted," Olina said, waiting for the hologram image to flicker into focus.

Moments later, Mavius stood before them. His face was expressionless, though the deep shadowed lines on his face divulged secret fears.

"Azela, Olina. I will make this quick. Still no news on the whereabouts of my two sons. Nor what they are up to. I have learned that the towns of Xumena, Guidion, Plittioeri, Volz, and Kwapolden have also been taken by the Brotherhood. Xumena, Guidion and Volz were decimated. No survivors that we know of. Plittioeri and Kwapolden surrendered. The towns are intact but their inhabitants are gone. That brings the total death toll to around one million makers. And the prisoners, I don't know, around three hundred thousand maybe." Mavius stopped, sighed, brushed his beard and looked down at the ground as if studying his feet. When he looked up again, his mouth twitched, and his voice hitched in his throat. He sighed again, looking suddenly very unsure of himself. "There is one more thing. There are whispers from Gedalia and Hazelton, the safe towns closest to the destruction on the Xumena side of the eight. They say the Savior has come." He stopped again, cleared his throat and continued. "I'm heading to the Other Hall after a stop at the lower quadrant of the eight. I'll check on you both soon." With a quick nod, Mavius disappeared.

The room plunged into a heavy silence. Olina returned to studying the map before her, plugging red and blue tacks into the towns Mavius had mentioned.

"You know the Savior refers to Sarah?" Azela said, placing a hand on Olina's rigid shoulder.

"Not necessarily," Olina said her lips pursed defiantly. "It could be anyone."

"Not solely Maker, not solely human," Azela continued.

"I know the rhyme. And that is all it is."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Am I supposed to believe that my daughter is some prophesized savior? It's a nursery rhyme - it has no real meaning."

"To many it does. And even without meaning, news is spreading that Sarah is back in the Maker's Realm."

"All we know is someone who fits the description of half maker, half human has been spotted, somewhere. I'm sure Sarah isn't the only one who fits that description. Even if it was her, Mavius didn't give any more details than 'whispers' from two towns near the Mortal Embassy. I don't even know what to do with that information," Olina tried to hide the frustration mounting within, but she knew her sentences were too clipped. _Why hide it_ , she thought, it was useless hiding her true feelings from her mother.

"Olina," her mother said, her voice low and compassionate. "I think you are right. There is nothing you can do. If Sarah is here, it's of her own will. You can't find her, not now. We are preparing for war. And you are our Captain."

Olina turned away, placing the last red tack squarely and firmly in Xumena. She couldn't let herself think about anything else.

Her mother didn't seem to share in her opinion. "You have to face it though. I can feel it. Can't you? Sarah is here. And she is waging the same war we are. If she is wielding the light, let us help light the flame."

Olina sighed. She had hoped more than anything that she had freed her daughter from this burden. Deep down Olina knew Sarah would be back. Prophecy or not, her daughter had too much of Olina in her to not fight for the ones she loved.

"I can't do this right now, I can't think about Sarah because if I do I might not be able to be the maker you all need."

Azela stopped, considering her daughter carefully. "And what do you need?" she asked a moment later.

"I need less sympathy and more facts."

Azela didn't skip a beat, "The messenger - he told me Iliat, Fatzel, and Croapia have been taken as well."

Olina let out an exasperated sigh before shaking her head solemnly. "Imprisoned or killed?"

"I don't know."

Olina placed two yellow tacks, before turning back to her mother. "Where the stars is Croapia, anyway?"

"I don't know."

And that was it. That was the last blow that knocked Olina from her feet. She crumpled to the ground and fought a wave of grief raging under the surface.

"You can cry, Olina, it doesn't make you weak."

"Mother, I don't have the luxury of tears. I don't have time to wallow. And I don't even have the right to feel hurt. Not after all the hurt I have caused. All I have left is to redeem myself, in any way possible."

"Stop it, Olina! Nothing you have done was ever your fault."

"Maybe not, but I did terrible, cruel things just the same. And if I can't take credit for those actions, who will? Just ask the Other Sarah who is to blame for all the cruelty I shoved at her."

"She'll say the Brotherhood."

"Perhaps, but in her memory I'm still the one with the whip."

Azela shuddered at the words before sympathetic eyes once again fell over Olina's contorted face.

"I said no sympathy, Mother," Olina fought back the tears threatening to overpower her. "I said facts," she bit down, closing her eyes in attempt to control her emotions.

"Fine. You want facts," Azela said, forcing her maternal instincts to settle down. "Look at your map."

Olina seized the moment, channeling her desire to tear apart every morsel of the Brotherhood. She pulled herself up turned around and looked at the tacks pushed into the map and wall.

"I'm not a detective or anything but wouldn't you say you have found the Brotherhood's approximate location?"

Olina followed the dots; they did seem to navigate around a certain zone within the Black Hole. It was quite vast, but not nearly as vast as the entirety of the Black Hole.

"You are right," Olina said. "We have a target area. It must be their headquarters in the middle somewhere. They will never expect us to know where it is. I've been there but they have a memory block at the exit. Only certain maker's are allowed access to the navigational chip and it's to be returned after every journey. It's quite brilliant really. This is perfect! Their carnage has revealed their location. They are so busy on the offense, that they have left themselves vulnerable." Olina smiled widely, this was good news indeed. "Mother do you know what this means?"

Azela nodded her head, "It means we have a chance."

"Yes," Olina agreed. Her smile faded, replaced with a cool and calculating expression, she added "and I am going to be as cruel as they taught me."

::/::/::/::/::/::

She didn't mean it. _Not really_ , Olina thought, as she she plunged a sword into a stuffed dummy. The sword was heavy and it made Olina feel clumsy and weak. The weapon wasn't for her, but maybe a stronger maker could wield it. _Cruelty_ , she thought again, pulling the blade out from her target's chest, _it's a fine line_. She placed the sword onto a pile of weapons she had recently forged. The war she was ready to declare and the lives she was preparing to take - what would it mean for her? The Brotherhood had made her cruel, yes. But having her love returned didn't make her incapable of cruelty. Makers would die at her hand. How was she not cruel in her intentions? Because she would kill, but feel bad about it? Was that the difference between her and the Brotherhood? Olina felt sure there was cruelty in knowing something was wrong but doing it anyway. She looked at the dummy with its protruding stuffing. This wasn't real. What she would do wouldn't trickle hay on to cold cement floors. It was blood on a battlefield that made her skin crawl, and her soul ache from inside. Still she picked up a book on an adjacent table, riffling through the pages. Now this blade, Olina thought, landing on a stainless steel bowie knife with an ivory handle, I might be able to use that. She sighed, looking over towards her mother down the hall. Her mother bent over a book, nodding her head in comprehension to something. Olina was exhausted from making material for their arsenal. Not only was the task tedious but it was emotionally arduous _. If there was another way_ , Olina thought of Sarah, her mother, even the Other Sarah, _I would take it in a heartbeat_. Her head ached, thinking of the map on Mother's living room wall. So many red tacks. No, Olina would do what was necessary to protect the ones she loved.

"Do you need my help?" a soft voice echoed from behind her. "You have been at it for hours." The Other Sarah, brushed beside her and peered down at her book. "I like that one too. It seems easy to handle."

"Oth…Sarah," Olina said, blushing slightly, not meaning to dredge up the obvious.

"It's alright. I know it must be confusing," the Other Sarah said. "Would it help if you called me Sare?"

Olina tried not to wince. That was her nickname for Sarah.

"Or Sari," she said, evidently picking up on the discomfort.

Olina felt terrible. Why was this girl so understanding? It made her feel even guiltier.

"No," Olina said, "Sare is fine." Sarah's nickname was Sare-bear anyway. "Sare, would you like to go for a walk with me? I could use some fresh air."

"Sure!" Sare said with a jolt. "Where would you like to go? I know of this place just outside of the caverns…"

"I was thinking further than that. Mother," Olina said, turning her head down the great room, "do you want to take a break?" Azela looked up from the thick book she was reading. A pistol gripped casually in her hand.

"Yes, I would," Azela said turning the gun in her hand before standing up.

"Be careful where you point that thing!"

"It's not loaded, Olina. Not yet," she said as she emptied a box of bullets she had made into its chambers.

"Take it with you," Olina said. She looked back at her book concentrating on the coveted knife's material description. In a few minutes Olina stood, holding two knives. One she strapped to herself the other she handed to Sare. "Here, we don't know what we will meet out there."

"Where are we going?" Azela asked, walking along side her daughter and Sare. They reached the far wall's staircase leading up and out of the Bell Tower.

"We are going to our special place. Is it still there, Mother?" Olina hadn't been back since she was a child.

"It is. I've tended to it myself," Azela said, a happy light shining through amused eyes.

"Perfect," Olina smiled between Azela and Sare, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of betrayal toward her Sarah. She had always dreamed of sharing their spot with Sarah. She would just have to get used to sharing things with Sare as well. "I think we could use a reminder about what we are fighting for."

::/::/::/::/::/::

Sare's feet had never touched wet earth before. It was cool, squishy and the few blades of grass tickled the bottom of her feet. But her Mother and Grandmother had left their shoes next to base of large tree surrounded by large yellow flowers, and Sare wanted to share in her family's past time. Olina had sat down on a low lying swing, her grin almost as wide as her slender face.

"I suppose next you are going to tell me that the swing hasn't shrunk," Olina said, with a manner as carefree as Sare had ever seen.

Azela laughed, "I think the tree isn't the only thing that has grown."

Olina turned to Sare her eyes twinkling, a shadow crossing a second later, and then beaming with kindness once more. When would Olina stop looking at her with such obvious confliction? Sare had long since stopped hating Olina, "Mother", and now only desired to belong to someone. Hadn't her anger towards her Mother, her maker, always been rooted in her desire to be loved by her? She had turned her mother's rejection into ire. But now, her mother could love her. Sare could be loved, and who better to love her than her own maker mother. She would belong to someone. Yes, she would have a family. If only Mother would stop looking at her like she was betraying Sarah. Sarah was gone, and she, Sare, would take her place.

Olina skipped down from the swing, with a giggle that almost seemed childlike. She gestured to Sare to sit down next to Azela on a blanket strewn out among the field of yellow flowers. Olina lowered herself to the throw and laid back, staring at the clouds above.

"This was a good idea," Azela said, following suit.

"We used to watch the clouds roll by here," Olina said to Sare, her eyes fixed straight ahead. "That one looks like a platypus."

"What's a platypus?" Azela and Sare asked in unison.

"It's animal from the human realm," Olina said softly. The three watched the clouds roll in from Goldry with utter silence for what seemed to be hours. It wasn't. Sare knew it. Her mother and grandmother couldn't spare hours. Still, these minutes were so precious to Sare that she clung to each one until she was full of this sacred moment. She didn't dare speak. She was sharing in her first family event.

The sound that broke their reverie was despised even before it was understood. Sare turned an anxious head towards Olina and Azela. Each woman sharing a troubled expression. Voices, two men, approaching from a short distance.

"Shhh…" Olina whispered, spying over the blades of grass. "Maybe they won't see us."

Sare closed her eyes, praying the voices owners would pass them by. Sare clung to the hope, even as the men's faces came into view. She felt jarred, as Olina bounded up with a jerk giving away their paltry hiding place. What was her mother doing?

"It's you," her mother said, she watched Azela rise with a confused air. And even before she knew what she was doing, Sare also followed their example. Completely remiss of what danger may lie ahead of them now, Sare stood up. And she stood up with a smile. _Family_ , Sare thought, _family means sticking together_. And Sare belonged to this family.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading and thanks for taking time to comment... I have three more chapters on their way. Hang on, I'm picking up speed. Maybe at this rate I'll finish this book this year! Thank you HEW for your BETA skills. ;)


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

 _It had to be you_

Razwel would have left the boy to fend for himself. It was certainly not in his general way to invest so much time and energy on anyone other than himself. But the helpless boy who had grown so quickly from befuddled and shocked to furious and determined, proved to be a very interesting distraction from his quotidian existence. He had not even realized he was bored until the boy presented him was such intrigue.

First, by the mention of Olina and then by his fury over the disappearance of a simple piece of jewelry. The boy had declared vengeance on Jareth, and frankly, having been victim of Jareth's game he would delight in seeing Toby's revenge. Although that, he thought, would certainly not be the case. Jareth was a maker and the boy before him was merely human, and a child one at that. Still, as much as Razwel wanted to remain unmoved, and uncaring, he couldn't help but feel a little spark of concern ignite for the helpless kid before him.

In some teeny and unfortunate way this irksome young boy reminded him of himself. Or the lad he used to be. He didn't want to trudge up those memories. And as much as he tried to blink them away, a flash was all it took. He was bent over his mother's cold body and he was sobbing. What would he give to have those memories permanently extracted? As much time as he had managed to cram between him and that awful period, he knew if he let himself reflect, the memories would be a clear as day. Why did the moments that hurt the most seem the most stubborn to leave you behind?

So many years had passed since his family had passed. His mother, father, and sister, many makers years more than himself, had left him alone in the small town of Goldry. His mother was the last to go, and he spent years caring for her. The life of a maker seems to stretch for eternity, for most natural death seems almost as far-fetched as fiction. Most makers pass when the wheel of chance strikes them with an accidental blow from which they cannot recover. Such is the fate of the mass, for a maker's lifetime with a natural death would beat the odds, and be considered very lucky indeed. Razwel was of an entirely different perspective. A natural death for a maker was torture to their soul, and consequently the most pitiful and unlucky way to go. He had seen the wrath of age, the loss of reality, the loss of control. Taking care of his mother was all consuming. For years he had seldom left his home; her needs wouldn't permit it. His neighbors stopped knocking at his door. How many times had she refused their help, too proud to let in anyone else?

Then there were the years she was incapable of pride, the last years of her life where her memories blurred, only framed by fits of rage and seconds of lucidity. It was then Razwel yearned for help but didn't know how to ask. He looked beyond the four walls closing in on him with such hungry longing. And then a clear moment where his mother took his hand, and he would feel a wave of guilt. It was in this way he had ostracized himself from the people of Goldry. With time he hardly remembered anyone beyond the walls of his home. When his mother breathed her last agonizing breath Razwel had felt utterly depleted and lost. He only knew her death. Suddenly he despised everything around him. The walls of his cage, the streets that had beckoned him – the guilt, the duty, the anger, the grief. Now he only wanted one thing, to escape it all, and to never look back. Enter the Brotherhood. This, thought Razwel, was exactly what he didn't want to remember. Razwel shoved the memories back down. No, Razwell tried to convince himself, what compelled Razwel to follow Toby now was not compassion, but simple curiosity. Or simple boredom.

So, that is what Razwel focused on as he strode alongside the livid boy. Toby, having been not completely dim, had accepted his company.

"And we are sure he went this way?" the boy asked, following a scattered set of prints. Honestly, Razwel had lost Jareth's trail as soon as Jareth had regained the shell passage. These prints could have belonged to anyone. Furthermore, they were heading directly towards Cannali.

"You don't know where he was going?" Razwel asked with an arched brow.

"Jareth doesn't seem to be a man of many words. All I know is Sarah is here somewhere. Her mother is evil, and was on something like a spot of dust. How is that possible?"

"Speck of Dust," Razwel corrected bemused by Toby's complete ignorance.

"Whatever, anyhow apparently her evil mother is out on the loose, I guess. Maybe that is why Sarah is in danger. She's being chased by Olina? I don't know. It's all ridiculous sounding. But this place, it _is_ ridiculous. I mean it shouldn't be real. And I keep pinching myself, but I don't wake up. So it has to be real, right? And I don't understand why in the hell he stole my watch. It was my father's watch. It was the last thing I have of him."

Razwel bit back the flash of his own father's kind smile. "I know Olina," he said flatly, "She's from that town right there." He pointed to the emerging sight of Cannali.

"Is she there? It can't be that simple."

"Believe me, there is nothing simple about Olina."

"Is she as cruel as he says? It's hard to believe. I mean she's Sarah's mom."

Razwel gulped. In Razwel's estimation, Olina was indeed cruel. Although Razwel was struck by a flicker of guilt. Her cruelty was solely on him. Him and the Brotherhood. Why had he enlisted? Why had he ever heeded their counsel? Was he so desperate to possess her? His obsession with Olina of Cannali was a distorted desire to connect with someone. A hunger that had lead him to a despicable act, one, in hindsight, he buried in shame. Was this boy ever going to stop reminding him of the terrible pain he had managed to so carefully escape from?

"Do you think she went back to Cannali?"

"Olina's wickedness is notorious. It would be very unlikely that the good people of Cannali would accept a member of the Brotherhood."

"This is hopeless. We've lost his tracks. I have no idea where he went. I don't even know where I am. My mother is certainly worried about me. Sarah is God knows where. I don't know what I was ever thinking. I just…I don't know how to just stand and wait for Jareth to came back. And why did the bastard steal my watch? What could he possibly need it for?"

"Proof. Collateral."

"That would mean everything he said to me was a lie."

"I have to admit, he didn't seem himself."

"How so?"

"I've only met him a few times, but Jareth of Jorg never appeared to me as a man who would manipulate to get what he wants. He was always reserved, but kind. What if something happened to him? Maybe what you know of him, and from him, is only half truth."

"I don't understand."

"I recognize his cool and calculated way. I think perhaps the Brotherhood has taken his love."

"What? How could someone do that? Isn't that rather intact?"

"I've only seen it done once before. It isn't an extraction, exactly. It's like the brain has been rewired, and the part of the brain where the love resides has been buried and lost. The person can't access it."

"And you think Jareth, my sister's sort of husband, has had his brain _scrambled_?"

"In a way."

"Then we have to unscramble it."

"I don't think it can be undone. Believe me, I've tried," Razwel said, hearing the edginess in his own voice. He had tried, without success. And his attempt had cost him his place in the Brotherhood. Not that he regretted his exile.

"Oh, poor Sarah." Toby lowered his head, staring at his feet while deep in thought. The two continued on in silence, heading towards the outskirts of Cannali. They were almost to the large delta, the one with the single tree surrounded with tall golden flowers. The low hanging swing swayed gently in the breeze. He had often visited this place when he was a boy. He used to read under the shade tree, and he would slowly venture into sleep. One time he had awoken with a start. A girl quite a bit younger than himself had run across the yellow flowers, giggling. Her smile wide and brilliant. Her mother followed serenely behind, enjoying the suns tender caress.

 _"_ _Hello,"_ the girl had said to him, as he sat up _. "You are at my tree."_ Her hair was in braids and fell to her waist.

 _"_ _Your tree?"_

 _"_ _I'm Olina,"_ she indicated her name carved into the trunk. " _My mother planted it for my creation day. But don't worry, we can share."_

Her mother had reached them, and smiled down at him warmly. She asked if he wanted to stay for a snack. Razwel, gathering up his books, had politely refused. His own mother was certainly looking for him. But he had never forgotten their kindness. And often wondered about Olina from Cannali, that is until the day he had met her again. She had spat in his face, which had only made him more determined to possess Olina and her warmth once more. It didn't turn out the way he had planned.

"Olina," Toby said, interrupting the unwanted memory. "Maybe she had her love stolen too. It would make sense. I can't imagine Sarah's mother being evil. From everything my Father told me and Sarah she was a very good person."

"Toby," Razwel began with a sigh, "I should tell you…" but the words caught in his throat. He wanted to tell him, he almost needed to tell the boy. He wished to be through hiding from his sins. If only he could confess, would the weight of his deeds finally be lifted? But he stopped, he couldn't get the words out. Not because they wouldn't come, but because he was suddenly facing the subject of his guilt in the flesh.

"It's you," the two words, airy and full at the same time, hit Razwel like a punch to the gut. Olina stood before them with two other women, a united front. And Olina looking at them, not with anger, but great surprise. No, not looking at them. Looking at Toby. When the surprise melted away it was replaced with such warmth he could see the child Olina shining through. And like that he knew. Olina had her love back. Her gaze flickered to Razwel, and with it a change as violent as an approaching storm. Olina remembered him. She loathed him. And Razwel couldn't help but understand why.

::/::/::/::/::/::

Olina didn't know who to look at first. Staring back at her were two faces that meant so much to her. One elicited such joy, and the other such hatred. As much bewilderment at seeing both here, and together, she knew she wasn't the only one reeling by their discovery.

"Sarah?!" Toby said, the shock falling off of him. He jumped forward seizing his sister look-a-like in massive bear hug.

Sare just stood there, uncertainly, her arms by her side.

"I've been so worried," continued Toby.

Olina watched Sare nudge Toby away. "Uhm, who are you?" she asked meekly. This would be difficult to explain.

"Sarah? What's wrong? Your memories have been wiped too?"

Olina knew she had to intervene, although she wasn't sure how. "Toby, I recognized you right away. You are the spitting image of your father," Olina said with a smile.

"I know you," Toby said, looking at Olina, confused. His eyes grew in amazement. He recognized her. Sarah must have had a few pictures of her mother still on display. "You are Linda…Olina. What have you done to Sarah?" he spat.

"You still don't remember, do you? You are here but you don't know why," Azela chimed from Olina's side.

"Yes, exactly! Is that your fault too?!" Toby's eyes rested accusingly on Olina.

"Come, come, we are all friends here," Azela tried to reassure him.

"No, I wouldn't say that." Olina said, glaring at Razwel.

"Razwel? Razwel the Drifter? You think he is a threat, Olina? You don't remember the little boy from Goldry that shared your tree?"

Olina blinked, softness washed over by betrayal. "If that boy is this man, than he has drifted very far indeed."

"No child, he's been here for years almost since right after his parents died. It's really a terribly tragic story. I'm sorry for your loss." Azela said, touching his shoulder.

"How do you know about my parents?" Razwel asked flatly, his eyes refusing to peel from Olina.

"I'm from Cannali. You have to know your choice to live in NMZ between Goldry and Cannali has sparked much conversation. Olina, he isn't a threat. He's just a lost boy."

"I've sinned enough to be called a man, ma'am. And with all due respect, you don't know me."

"I fully concur. Your sins are grave indeed," Olina said, sourly. "What are you doing with my step-son? Taking him to have his love stolen too?"

"That's fair. And no. I am out of the love game."

"Hmmm… You just stayed in long enough to wreck my life?"

"Come on, Sarah," Toby said, interrupting the group. "Let's just leave. You, me, and Razwel. And then you and I can go home." Olina could kick herself, she had let herself get caught up in her anger towards Razwel. Toby was much more important.

"I am home," Sare said with a confused and angry look.

"You just don't remember, Sarah," Toby continued before shooting a glare back at Olina, "Make her remember." Olina almost winced. How it hurt to have Robert's son looking at her with such blind hatred.

µ  
remember everything. I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

"Ahh!" Toby shouted, "What the hell is going on! Razwel, help me understand."

"Here is what I know. I had Olina's love stolen. She got it back."

Silence befell the group as their eyes bounced between Razwel and Olina. The two were entangled in an intense stare. Olina all violent rage and Razwel just bearing it with a repentant and determined look.

"You were responsible?" Sare asked with a voice full of mixed emotions. "I don't know if I should thank you or slap you. Without you I wouldn't exist. But neither would my awful memories of torture." Yes, Olina thought, trying to fight back against the vivid memories, she had tortured the girl. Not only physically, but mentally as well. Thank you Razwel. And as quickly as she thought it she chided herself. Her sins were on her.

"I'm sorry," was Razwel's only reply. Olina snorted inwardly. As if saying sorry was ever enough. She should know.

Azela looked at him with such pain, "This is what happens when makers turn their back on other makers. Someone should have helped you. You were practically still a boy. Now look at you. Lives squandered. Yours included." Olina could hardly believe her ears, her mother forever the crusader for the lost and lonely had managed to victimize Olina's oppressor. Attempted oppressor, she corrected herself. She had shown him in the end.

"Mother, don't pity him. He isn't worth it."

"I still don't understand," Toby said. "Olina's bad, Olina's good, Razwel is kind, Razwel is bad…Razwel," he continued with a flash of anger directed at his only companion. "Razwel did you know Sarah was here?"

Razwel only shook his head, his gaze still locked on Olina. Olina had to tell Toby that the girl beside him wasn't his sister. Not entirely. They were step-siblings, in a way.

"She's not the Sarah you know," said Olina with a remorseful expression.

"I can see that!" Toby's voice was deep and mordant. The man within him was manifesting. _The picture of his Father_ , thought Olina. She couldn't help but feel a dire need to protect the young man. He was the love of her life's son. He was the boy they could have had together…had circumstances been different. It pained her to have to clarify. She knew the pain she would cause.

"No, Toby. You don't understand. She's another Sarah. There are two of them."

Toby stood silent for a second before replying, "Like twins? Twins with same name?" Olina watched confusion and resignation vie for dominance over Toby's face. She understood too well how the mirror image of Sare was like a lake mirage in the Sahara. A cruel trick.

"Something like that," Sare replied. Her voice and gestures were identical to Toby's sisters. And she watched Toby wince. How many times had Olina stifled the same implulse? "They call me Sare," Sare continued and she gestured to Azela and Olina. "To make things easier."

"That's Sarah's nickname."

Sare paused, "I know this is hard to understand."

Azela cleared her voice, breaking the exchange of wary glances. "I think it's time you returned his memory, Olina." Olina looked imploringly towards her mother. Was that really the solution? Olina felt everyone's eyes on her. What she really wanted to do was to send him home, home to his biological mother and erase all this pain once more from his mind. But what would that mean? How did he end up here? Would he just find himself back in the Makers Realm? Even more lost and confused?

"You took my memories?" Toby swallowed a lump in his throat. The furious accusation in his voice made Olina pause. Was it really up to her to decide?

"I did. But it was meant to protect you and Sarah," she said, wondering why she was trying to defend her actions. Did it matter if Toby hated her? No, it didn't, not as much as his safety mattered.

"That worked," Toby said with a snarl.

There he was again, the man in Toby appearing over a furrowed brow. It was Robert, but it wasn't. Toby's father had never looked at her like that. Such rage from him stung as if he had slapped her across the face. She wanted to fight back. She wanted to defy the fixed and expecting gazes of the entire party by countering with a retort about "how erasing his memories again would be for his own good." But under the scrutiny of Toby's angry stare she only sighed and said, "I can fix it."

"Please do," he said, hotly.

And like that Olina was resolved to let Toby decide his fate. "Not here, it's NMZ. There in Cannali."

"You want me to follow you?" Toby laughed, "After everything I've heard about you being evil?" Olina flinched once more. This young boy had entirely too much power over her emotions.

Razwel stiffened, "You can trust her now. I can see she has changed." Olina shot him a sidelong glance.

"Fine, but you are coming with me, Razwel," said Toby, adamantly.

Olina who had momentarily felt reduced to a small and mute child, regained her voice, "He's not stepping one foot into Cannali," she said, with certainty. Razwel was not to be trusted.

"If I go, he goes. For some God-forsaken reason he is the only one here I feel I can trust. I don't know, maybe it's because he's the only one who seems as clueless as I do."

"Thanks," Razwel said sarcastically.

Toby pinned Olina with his father's obstinate stare. Olina knew that look and what it meant. Robert would never yield. Like father, like son. "Alright," Olina conceded. Someone had to give in. "But only because I know he can't make in Cannali and I need YOU to trust me, Toby. We'll fix this. And then maybe you can tell me how you ended up here, in Maker's Land. And with Razwel for that matter." Olina picked up the blanket at her feet, glancing over her shoulder to where her childhood's most precious memories took place. _Ruined_ , she thought. _Just ruined_.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

 _The world as we know it_

They were far enough away, Sarah hoped, as she rubbed Willa's back. Willa's tears had ebbed enough for Sarah to look over her shoulder at the young girl she had rescued. She walked numbly behind, evidently oblivious to the cold. Like Sarah, she was still soaked from their excursion. And Sarah felt now they were safe enough to stop and make some dry attire. Sarah felt wet to the bone but she was nothing compared to the young girl. Her long wet hair still clung to her body and her long white dress was soaked through, hanging heavily off her like a sopping wet towel. Even so she traipsed forward with uncanny detachment. Her eyes rested vacantly on Willa's back and she set one foot in front of the other in such a robotic manner that Sarah wondered if she wasn't an automaton. The young girl she had seen crying in the Other Hall was real. Sarah knew that to be true.

"Can't we stop?" Sarah's voice was half a whisper in the dark thick woods.

"We have to follow them," Ilisia said, apologetically.

"If they really want us to follow, they'll stop too," Sarah heard herself say in protest. She only needed a minute.

"We aren't even sure what they are. Why are we following them?" Knightly asked his arms still wrapped around his sister.

"They are friends. I sense it. They do not wish us harm," Ilisia's musical and timeless voice continued. Sarah likened the girl's voice to a music box. If they let her play on and on would Sarah fall asleep? She was so terribly tired.

"That is an awfully convenient gift you have,Ilisia" Trothe added with a smile. "To know friend from foe and who to trust, I'd be grateful for such abilities." Trothe's pearly white teeth were in sharp contrast against the dark night and his chocolate colored skin. In fact, Sarah could barely discern Trothe from the night. His dark skin was only a shade lighter and if not for cerulean fireflies Sarah wasn't sure she we see him at all. It was his smile, the whites of his eyes and his short white mane that were strikingly visible. He almost appeared to her in that moment like the Cheshire cat. Only Trothe's smile was earnest and warm and the Cheshire cat's smile was mischief and mystery.

"She could catch her death," Sarah said, defensively. Sarah didn't care much for the edginess in her own voice. But the fatigue, the cold and the discomfort it all screamed for her to stop. Sarah could silence it all. She could force herself to keep going. If it weren't for the strange girl she had dragged out of the Other Hall.

Knightly looked at Sarah and the young girl as if noticing them for the first time since their escape. "Friends will wait," he said resolutely. "They're soaked through and through, Ilisia."

Ilisia looked at the sodden pair. "Of course, do what you need to do," the music box lulled. Sarah didn't waste a second.

"You have a convenient gift too, Sarah, being able to make in NMZ." Trothe added, finding a large boulder to sit on. The way he perched there in the dark forest with whimsical cerulean blue lights whizzing about their heads made Sarah wonder for a moment if they hadn't fallen into Wonderland.

"How are you doing?" Sarah heard Aris ask Willa. Willa only diverted her eyes. Sarah understood. She knew Willa didn't want any more sympathy, not when she was trying so hard to regain control.

"I think she needs time," Ilisia said, "She'll talk to us when she's ready."

Sarah turned to the soaking girl with the long silver hair. "What's your name, dear?" she asked. The girl looked at Sarah's forehead through long dark lashes. She opened her mouth as if to speak, stopped, tilted her head looking past Sarah and said, "Truth is pain, I don't play anymore." Sarah blinked. She had said that before. "I'm going to make you some warm clothes. Would you like the same dress, or maybe a pair of pants?" No reply.

"Same it is." Sarah said, managing to grasp the trim of the skirt. Sarah wasn't a dress maker. She didn't know how to sew, or what fabric shapes went into making the dress before her. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the frock's texture, imagining it dry. The material would be almost like linen. She could see the clearly in her memory perched above her with a dress that gathered in at waist with a thin sash. The sleeves and the skirt billowed playfully. She did what she could. She handed the girl the clothes and a towel, half expecting her to drop them on the ground. But to her surprise the girl began to strip down her wet dress without any reserve. Her child form was too mature for comfort, and Sarah could feel the gazes of her companions shifting away.

"Whoah," Sarah said, "let me help you," she scrambled to cover the girl. "It's too cold to strip down like that." The girl's eyes settled again onto Sarah's forehead and Sarah wondered if the girl was avoiding eye contact to protect Sarah from what she was feeling. She helped her pull the dry dress over her head, confirming that she wasn't a dress maker and tied it with the sash. It would have to do.

When all was done, Sarah ransacked her sopping enchanted travel bag and pulled out a dry change of clothes for herself. Slipping behind the bend of a shrub, she scraped off her wet clothes, dried herself down and slipped into the comfort and warmth of a hoody and jeans she had brought from home. She slipped on a pair of white keds and returned to the girl to guess her shoe size.

After all was done, she turned to her travel companions with a nod.

A silence had once again befallen the group as they continued forward. Sarah was deep in thought about Holyoak and Willa. From what she had gathered, Holyoak had sacrificed himself to save Knightly and Willa. Knightly had filled her in on the attempted attack. She felt personally responsible for Holyoak. She knew it was his choice to come, and she knew he understood the risks. She was also aware it was his choice to save to Willa and Knightly, but it didn't make her feel any less the weight of his passing. She could see Willa too was wrought with grief and guilt. _This isn't on you,_ _Willa._ Somewhere deep down, Sarah knew she should heed the words herself. But she claimed the guilt anyway. She felt it was her cross to bear alone. Letting out a deep sigh, her thoughts turned to the young girl she had whisked out of the Other Hall of Half Truths. In the Other Hall she hadn't really had the time to reflect. She remembered enough of her dream to recognize her as the girl playing with her brother at the base of a root system. The girl had even spoken in the same enigmatic way. There was no doubt in her mind, she was that girl. This made her dream, not a dream, but a vision. Somehow her mind had reached out to this girl and that boy's subconscious, in the same way it had reached out to Jeminy back in Xumena. Which meant two things: the children were important, and the boy was still alive. He had said to come find him. Sarah wanted to stop and explain everything to the young girl, as it seemed she direly needed to be reassured. If Sarah could convince her that her brother was still alive, maybe she could get her out of her strange trance. But Sarah needed more than a few stolen minutes. She needed safety. Wherever Ilisia was taking them, that would be the place where she would put the girl's soul at ease. And maybe then Sarah would also be relieved of the fear of the unknown. Sarah could get the much needed answers in regards to the Brotherhood. And equally significant, maybe this girl would know how to restore Jareth's love.

"Wait," Ilisia whispered, "I see something. Look," Ilisia music box voice hiccupped with excitement. "We are supposed to go there. I know it."

Sarah froze, stunned. Thousands of little lights gathered above a pool of water that began to emerge into view. As they approached the lights, Sarah kept squinting, shaking her head and trying to make sense of what she saw. It was so dark, but she felt certain she could see the water did not continue on but just stopped, like hitting the glass wall of the tank. A tank that stretched all along before her. _A wall?_

"We are at the end of Maker's Realm here. Are you sure this is right, Ilisia?" Knightly said from behind her.

"The end?" Sarah asked, perplexed. How could there be an end to a world?

Aris nodded next to her before tilting her head at the befuddled Sarah. "Remember the maps you saw at my home in Limidus of the Maker's Realm?"

 _That was a lifetime ago_ , Sarah thought. "Yes."

"Well, the figure eight form of our world that loops around, it isn't like your world."

 _No kidding_ , Sarah thought.

"It isn't round," Knightly added.

Aris looked at Sarah with understanding, "No, it's flat. And when it ends it ends."

"How does it just end? Do you fall off if you reach the end? Or just float there?" Sarah asked. Her head ached. How much more information was she expected to ingest today? She needed a long night's sleep. She wondered if at some point she wouldn't just keel over from exhaustion. Then she gave a sidelong glance towards the others. They were holding up, so could she.

"Niether, It's like a force field keeps us in. All the energy that makes up the Makers Realm sort of contains us."

Sarah felt suddenly horrified. In a way they were trapped. Like fish in an aquarium. Birds in a cage. There were walls to this world. Were there ceilings too?

Ilsia eyed Sarah, forever aware of the feelings of those around her. "For someone coming from a world that can go on without end in sight it must appear quite restricting when you first learn of it."

"I never even thought to imagine a world being flat," Sarah offered, resting her tired body against an opposing tree.

"Magellan would be proud," Aris said with a glint of a smile.

Sarah had almost forgotten Aris' family's passion for maps and human history. Was it really only a month ago she had visited Limidus, when she had seen the maps in Aris' home, and learned Aristotle was among many brothers and sisters each with historical human names? She had felt so jealous of Aris then. So angry at Jareth. She didn't know who to trust. Things had definitely changed since that time. She hardly recognized the Sarah of Limidus. And here she was again learning something new and feeling so incredibly ignorant. She shook her head, deciding she had spent enough time questioning.

"So this is where we are supposed to be," she said. Hoping someone else would ask the next question her gut was begging to be posed.

"Ilisia, how could it be here?" Aris asked "It's just a lake at the end of the world."

"No," Ilisia said, shaking her head. "I think it's much more." As if on cue, the thousands of lights began to flicker and vibrate violently before plunging themselves under the water's surface. The cerulean lights fizzled out and the dark water grew blacker and more ominous. "We are supposed to follow."

"And we are supposed to go in there?" Knightly asked, warily.

"I agree it doesn't look very welcoming." Trothe added, his features now completely lost against the black night, "But I've come to trust your instincts or gift, Ilisia."

"Holyoak trusted you too," Willa said finding her voice. The group turned abruptly to the young woman, relieved to finally hear her voice. The words seemed to hover above Willa but in a way that appeared completely unattached to her, as if someone had thrown their voice and spoken them for her. If Sarah hadn't seen Willa's mouth move she would have doubted her ears. She stood there in such a numb and fragile state that Sarah was surprised she could muster even a word. Let alone a sentence that confounded so much subtext. It was surreal, perhaps, but it was what the group needed to hear. _Trust Ilisia. Holyoak sacrificed his life for our cause and he trusted her. Move! Go! Swim!_

"Fine by me," Knightly said in confirmation. "You think she will follow?" nodding to Sarah's refuge.

"She'll follow," Sarah said, reaching for the girl's hand. The girl didn't react. She didn't pull away either. That was reassurance enough to Sarah. They had already swum together once.

Aris nodded, in agreement, "Let's go then."

"Yes, we will go," Sarah said, trying to muster the confidence her voice boasted. She stifled a humph. She was so tired. And she supposed this would mean that she would have to make another dry dress.

::/::/::/::/::/::

The water was surprisingly warm, as if she had descended into a warm bath. In it the water felt almost calming, if it weren't for the fact that they were diving into the unknown. The flashlights they had carried burned out the moment they touched the lake's surface. It must have been enchanted. Under the water, Sarah's attention was diverted when she began to see flickers of light from above the surface. It seemed more of those odd tiny lights had followed them into the lake. They too delved under the surface and their lights too disappeared, the glowing replaced by deep black shades that now slithered around the group of makers to take the lead. Knightly pushed forward first, propelling his muscular body below the surface, following the shades that made Sarah's skin prickle. It wasn't a far swim. No one gasped for breath as their heads emerged. But it was so entirely strange they had plunged down, down. Never up. But here they were, their heads above another surface, and breathing warm, electric air. The world, was it sitting upside down? And the sight that greeted them, Sarah could never have imagined it. It was beyond anything she had seen in the Makers Realm. Though it was, without doubt, part of it. Sarah could feel it in her bones, as if part her knew, as a maker, that this was a part of the Maker Realm and a part of every maker.

The scenery before faintly reminded her of a photo negative, held to the light. They were in the same exact location they had just dived from, only here the skies were still black, but the world around them glowed bright silver, chrome and gold. The water ran off them in metallic drips into the gleaming lake. The trees etched into the scenery in bright brassy contrast to the black sky.

They themselves remained dark shadows except for their eyes and teeth. And the tiny lights they had followed had warped into human-sized shades themselves with arms and legs but no features for where their face would be. There were thousands around them, surrounding the lake, hovering over the lake. The temperature remained warm and almost palpable. Sarah and the group swam slowly forward until their feet hit the murky bottom. The shades gestured them forward to a clearing with a fallen tree for respite. If Sarah had watched this scene in a movie, or read about it in a story, she was sure it would have solicited great fear. But somehow her maker self knew she was safe. And she was sure that every maker in their group was met by the same innate comfort. They were somewhere that was a part of them.

But as with every living being, instinct and reason sometimes vie for domain over our peace of mind.

Sarah who knew she was home but had a million a questions. Sarah and the others emerged from the pool of silver waters, walked over leaves of crunchy bright chrome, and sat on a golden log.

Ilisia was the first to break the silence.

"They are friendly - the ones here. But I sense an urgency to protect us," she said, gazing over the dark forms.

"What are they?" Aris asked.

Ilisia shrugged.

"What do they want?" Trothe looked quizzically towards Sarah and Ilisia.

"I don't know," Ilisia said, "I can only read their feelings."

"I have no idea," said Sarah, wide-eyed.

The group fidgeted in the unsettling silence. Sarah wasn't sure what she was supposed to be doing and as if to answer her unease, a form began to push its way through the other forms. It centered itself in the clearing, stationary between Sarah and Willa. And like that Sarah heard his voice in her mind. Holyoak.

 _Sarah, can you hear me?_ He asked, and Sarah jumped in reply.

"Holyoak?" At the sound of Sarah's voice, Willa stiffened, grasping at Sarah's thigh.

"It's Holyoak?" her voice came out clearly this time, full of life; a mixture of love and urgency.

 _Oh Willa, Please don't cry for me. I am fine. I know you have many questions. You all have many questions. And I will answer everything I know now._

Sarah's stomach was tied in knots, she could feel hot tears burning, building in eyes. She spat out Holyoak's words, eager to relay his message. Her reason once again telling her this couldn't be. Her instinct screaming for silence. _This is important._

Willa opened her mouth as if to speak, and Sarah heard Holyoak say in her mind. _Interrupt her._

"Willa, stop." She heard herself say.

 _I know you feel responsible for my death. None of you have any part in my decision. It was my choice, mine alone. Erase any and all guilt from your minds. And I promise very soon, I will be at peace._

Sarah relayed his message as quickly and clearly as she could, her eyes on Willa as she eagerly headed her words.

 _You undoubtedly wonder where you are. You are still in the Maker's Realm, but as every coin has two sides_ _so_ _too does our world. Here is where our souls go when their corporal form has ceded to rest eternally. And like our bodies become one with the earth above, a soul at peace will become one with the earth below. Bodies with their organic properties feed the natural world above. Souls with their making energy feed all of Makers Realm. Once a soul has found peace their shadow is lit from within and melts into the soil, seeping above to the other side. The excess energy pours into the Black Hole. In this way all elements of the maker are built into the circle of life, his body and his soul, are one in the same with the Maker's Realm._

Sarah blinked, thankful for a pause in his inner monologue. Her mind reeled. Her voice trembled as she conveyed his narration. It was as astounding as it was beautiful, and it just made sense. How could it be any other way? Someone's light was not snuffed out; death was not the end. It was only part of the journey. 

Willa winced, "Your soul is not at rest?" she asked, wanly.

 _I will be. I promise._

There was a moment of silence, followed by an apologetic Knightly, "Holyoak, I'm sorry for not taking more time to get to know you before. You were more than worthy of my sister's love, and I thank you for what you did to save us. I will let your family know you died with honor."

"You will be missed, Holyoak." Aris said, "It pains me to say goodbye."

"It pains us all," Ilisia said.

"I'm relieved you are here now," Willa began, standing up and moving towards his faceless form. Her hand reaching up to where his cheek would be, her eyes began to fill with tears once more.

 _Please don't cry Willa._

"I never got to tell you why I loved you," she began with a sob. "I did think about it, it didn't take long. I just had to think about that first day in the market. When our hands met, when we both reached for the basket I was looking at. I felt a shock through our hands when they touched, but it wasn't maker's energy because it went straight to my heart. The basket, it was one you had created. It was so beautiful, so intriticate. And I remember thinking that it wasn't possible to create something like that without making. You had offered to give me lessons, almost right away. You looked at me with such earnest kindness. And the way you looked at me, it just made my heart jump. But beyond that, I think the day the lessons began was when I knew. I knew you didn't love basket weaving. I could tell because you looked at those baskets and those materials with such coolness. And then you would turn your gaze at me and it was all warmth. Yet, every single time you painstakingly created a masterpiece. And I know you did out of love for your people, for your traditions. Here, I thought, was a man who knew of integrity, and of self sacrifice." Her voice hitched on the last words, before clearing again with determination. "I knew any love I earned from you would be grand indeed. You were a superior maker. And your dedication inspired me. In hindsight, I loved you the moment our hands met. I just didn't know why." Slowly she moved a hand forward, his shadow hand following hers. Their hands stopped in unison, hovering in the warm air, almost a touch.

 _Tell my parents I love them._ Sarah began again, choking back her own tears. Holyoak was saying goodbye. _And Willa, I will love you for all eternity._ She had barely finished his words when a spark ignited in the shadow Holyoak. It grew and grew, until it was almost blindingly beautiful and erupted into shards of starlight raining down and into the earth. And like that, Holyoak was at peace.

::/::/::/::/::/::

Willa could hear the others conversing softly in the strange underworld. Her mind was still playing back Sarah's, or Holyoak's words. She felt numb. It wasn't that talking to Holyoak, that saying goodbye wasn't a relief. She felt her heart eased a little that he was at peace, but it all felt premature. Why should she be given closure before she had the chance to really grieve? It didn't seem fair. Knightly's voice was full of concern as she heard him ask, "All souls come here, even the souls from the Brotherhood?" Still she couldn't muster the energy to reply.

"More than likely," Sarah said.

"I feel that the shadows around us are on their guard."

Ilsia's sweet voice drifted into Willa's reverie. Willa was still staring at the place where Holyoak had disappeared. The ground had soaked him up, she thought. Squinting to see something in the ground that resembled Holyoak. Sarah had her arms around her, and Knightly was holding her clammy hand in his. She didn't know why she looked up at that moment, but something tugged within and she found herself snapping out of her trance. She perceived him first, another shadow approaching among the surrounding crowd of shades. At first her heart skipped, _Holyoak?_ But the form was smaller, wider. Still a man, she assessed and one she recognized. Her grandfather. _Oooh._ Willa sighed, inwardly. It was a long day.

Willa found her voice once more, as the nodded toward the man, tears once more welling in her eyes. _I can't,_ she thought. _It's too much._ "Grandfather," she said, mustering all the courage she had left. Knightly quickly turned to where Willa's gaze had fallen.

"Willa, Knightly I am sorry to greet you in circumstances such as this," Sarah's voice rang once again with a note a fatigue. "I won't stay long. You all need rest. And you can stay here to regain your strength. You are not in danger for the time being. The shades before you are friends of your cause. And they will protect you for as long as they can. I just needed to tell you what I saw. It is crucial for your mission to understand."

Willa couldn't stand it. All she wanted to do is run to grandfather. He always gave her the warmest, most tender hugs. How she longed to be in his arms now.

"We're listening, Grandfather," she heard herself say.

"My dear Willa, such a force of nature. And Knightly the protector. Your father would be so proud,"

Sarah paused waiting for their Grandfather to continue. "The night I died, I saw the weapon. You are aware that the Brotherhood possesses something that hinders our ability to make and protect ourselves in our hometowns."

"Yes, we felt its power." Knightly said, "What is it Grandfather?"

"It isn't a what, but a whom. It was a young boy, a boy no older than ten, in appearance. He was being carried, on a sort of pedestal, and he looked around with such blind hatred. I don't know how I knew it was him blocking my abilities, but it was like part of his being reached out and stifled mine."

"A boy did that?" Willa asked, aghast. She looked around at her maker friends, their expressions mirroring her own. All except the girl that Sarah had rescued, she tilted her head and looked at Sarah and the shade with urgency.

Willa and the rest of the group were astonished to hear her voice.

"This boy, hair of silver and eyes of pale blue?" she asked with a mixture of hope and fear.

"Yes," Sarah said for Willa's grandfather. "It was the boy in my vision," she said more to herself.

"Then his heart still beats. What a cruel trick to play, the man who told me otherwise," the girl said.

"He's your brother? And has the power to block other's abilities?" asked Aris.

"Brother possesses the Hall of Half Truths, and I, Sister, the Other. Red bearded man told me, he was killed by the Maker's Apostles, or those that oppose the Brotherhood. I only see the truth and in him I saw no lies. And when I went to the Roots where Brother and I play, Brother never came."

Trothe shuddered, "Are you and your brother in line with the Brotherhood?"

"We line ourselves together, only. Brother, Sister, family for eternity."

"They must have told him you were killed by makers opposing the Brotherhood in the same way they manipulated you. They were turning you into weapons."

The girls pale blue eyes iced over and she grew silent once more.

Willa turned to her grandfather once more, "The Brotherhood has control over him. What should we do?"

Sarah cleared her throat, "He says we need to find him, reunite Brother and Sister."

Willa's gaze met the girl's; a violent white anger began to boil under her surface. She understood immediately that the girl also had an amazing power. She diverted her eyes, allowing the fury to dissipate. It was a strange new world they lived in, Willa realized. One without Holyoak and her Grandfather, one with an uncanny underworld, one where a new generation held even more amazing powers, and one where the Brotherhood and the bureaucracy of the Maker's Land would come to an adamant end. They were pioneering a brave new world.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own the Labyrinth

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Chapter Twenty

 _Love versus Lust_

Jareth was fully aware that she had become an obsession. He clasped the watch in his palm, staring vehemently at the piles of rubble that stretched as far as he could see. He clenched his teeth and huffed irritably into the morning's damp air. He had travelled all night, certain that he would find her. Certain that with the breaking dawn he would finally have her in his reach. He would dangle the watch like bait on a stick, and he would own her. It had been only a few weeks since they had shared his bed. He had felt her skin to his skin, her breath hot on his body. It had felt so delicious. The heat that they made tugged at his loins now. And though he cringed at the memory of his own romantic caress, he also recalled the glorious friction, and he wanted, no, he yearned to feel it again. What he didn't want was her doe-eyed looks, her love-dripping touch, and her sweet honey words. His desire was purely carnal and absolutely vital, pure and unadulterated sex. A mute Sarah would suit him perfectly for his needs, he decided, wondering if he could make away her voice. Pointless he countered; Sarah could manage to infiltrate his mind as well. Still his appetite for _her_ was insatiable. No one else would do, and believe him he had tried. Every hour that passed in which he didn't possess her only made him crave her more. He would figure it out; he calmed his heat flushed body. Somehow he would break her. Somehow he would make her exactly like him. Maybe the Brotherhood would reward Jareth by taking away Sarah's love too. Then they could lust freely until his obsession had ebbed, and he could move on to someone else. But first he had to catch her. And dammit, this was where she was supposed to be. Even if she wasn't here, the god forsaken Other Hall of Half Truths was supposed to know where she was going. So, it was perfectly understandable why Jareth would writhe in fury when he was greeted with such an unexpected sight as this. What terrible disappointment he felt. He knew the Brotherhood was gaining power. And that their methods were far from conventional. In his eyes they were impulsive with deadly strength. But this bewildered him. Why destroy what they could possess? Furthermore, they had commissioned him to find Sarah. Why then were they making his task even more difficult? Intended or not, it was infuriating. He hated not getting what he wanted.

The demolition of the Other Hall threw a paralyzing wrench into his work. Consequently, he stood there, trying to gauge his next move. He had to think like Sarah. Why had she come to the Maker's Realm? Was it to find her mother? To find him? No matter the reason, she needed information. He was certain she would pass by here. Had she already passed? Was she on her way? Was she here when the Other Hall fell? Maybe she was under the rubble. No, he shook his head. The Brotherhood would take her alive. If she already passed by here where would she go next? Would she go to Aris? Or to see her mother? Or dare she return to Jorg? This was clearly beyond him. He hated to admit it but he needed help.

He would have to reach out to the Brotherhood. Surely they would have had news since Sarah's arrival in the Maker's Realm. Jareth contemplated what that meant. His best bet, and most practical in his current location, would be to send the Blue Screamer. He sorely regretted having to resort to such a humiliating task. He wondered who would respond. The Brotherhood member or members that chanced upon his sky signal could be of any rank within the Brotherhood. Would they have access to the Headquarters? Would they have-two way contact with the Committee? Or know how to reach Isis? Or would they be subject to the same untrusting one-way censored communication as Jareth? The 'they'll call you' method, as Jareth coined it, was very inconvenient indeed. Jareth managed to peel his eyes from the demolition site. Regardless of whom among the Brotherhood would hear, see, and recognize the mark, he knew his pride would be checked at the door. And he would do it anyway because his obsession was greater than his ego. Yes, after a few hours of rest and a good meal, he thought, he would release the Blue Screamer high above the shelter of NMZ. He placed Toby's watch once more into his pants pocket. _Razwel better be keeping Tobias safe_ , Jareth thought, feeling the weight of Toby's watch on his upper thigh. It would make negotiation with Sarah quite thorny if his collateral had been compromised. And nothing better stand in the way of him harnessing his obsession. Sarah was his in body, not soul. Jareth huffed once more, turned on his heels and ventured forward into the Cerulean Forest.

:/:/:/:/:/:/:/:

Toby found himself sitting across from Olina, massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers. A throbbing headache had accompanied the return of his memories. Which Olina had warned may be expected. As would be the disorientation as his mind would rifle through which memories of the past few weeks were legitimate and which were of her creation. In time, Toby would be able to recognize the false memories by the blue haze that would surround them. This was the mind's way of dividing the two realities. Olina apologized again but Toby could barely hear her over the flood of noise surfacing in his mind. Weeks of memories, sped through his brain all in super rewind or fast-forward, he wasn't sure. Words, sounds, images bleeding together in such a giant, and jumbled mass that he could no longer see straight. He sat there, head in his hands, wanting to vomit from the dizziness. And then it suddenly it stopped. His head still ached but he looked up, his eyes blinking in the scene before him. He didn't even have to replay the last weeks, he just knew them. He remembered being at home, but he also remembered every detail of the Maker's Land. It was an experience that was once again a part of him. He looked at Olina confused.

"Last I knew, you were still in league with the Brotherhood," Toby said, regarding Olina skeptically. "But you weren't," his attention turned to Azela. Azela's look of warmth reassured him. "Oh, holy shit," he said as his new memories in the Maker's Realm caught up to the old ones. "What happened to Jareth?! The guy is like evil now or something!"

"Jareth brought you here, Toby?" Azela asked.

"Yes, he sent some cryptic messages about Sarah being missing, and then showed up at her place. And the bastard stole my father's watch."

"I took his love," Olina said.

Toby peered slack-jawed in Olina's direction. "You did what?!" he finally managed.

Azela defensively shook her head, "It was before Sarah had helped _her_ get her love back. And Olina feels so terrible about it that she won't even accept that it wasn't really her fault."

"Did you take our memories before then too?" Toby asked.

Olina replied, abruptly, "No."

Toby paused and then tight-lipped said, "You could have gotten me killed." His voice was dripping with accusation.

"She did that to protect you. She didn't want you or Sarah being sucked into a war." Azela shot a frustrated look towards Olina. "You really want people to hate you, don't you? Does it make you feel any better?" Olina didn't reply.

"Everyone thinks they know what is best for me and for Sarah. Does anyone even think to ask us?" Toby furrowed his brow looking between his step-mother, step-grandmother and ignoring his step-sister. These makers, he thought, angrily, they abuse their abilities. How can they just manipulate others like that? It wasn't right. "What was Jareth thinking?" he asked, turning to Razwel. Jareth was manipulating him as well. It seemed the only maker who hadn't tried to manipulate him thus far was Razwel. Perhaps because he refused to make. He supposed in retrospect that Sare and Azela had done nothing to him yet, but they were loyal to Olina. Which made them untrustworthy in his eyes. Trust was earned.

"I don't know. But he isn't the Jareth you remember," Azela replied for Razwel. Toby didn't very much care for her putting words in Razwel's mouth.

"I'd say not," Toby replied, hotly. "This just sucks. Sarah gets _you_ back," he glared at Olina as if to say as much good as that did her, "and then loses her husband."

"They shared words?" Olina asked, solemnly.

"Yeah, they are like married or something."

"Stop it. It wasn't your fault, Olina" Azela said, curtly.

"Yes it was. I did it, Mother. No one else."

 _She's right to take responsibility_ , thought Toby, crossly. Then with a softening expression said, "You'll just have to fix it." His tone matter-o-fact as he added, "like you fixed me, and like Sarah fixed you."

He watched Olina shift awkwardly. She bit down on her lower lip in the same way Sarah did when she was confronted with a real dilemma. The family resemblance made Toby feel almost sorry for his harshness before. "Taking your memories was only an illusion. They were just squared away into a tiny safe inside your mind. And I knew the codes. Even you, given the proper stimulation, could have accessed them. Love, now, that is something else entirely, it's a fundamental rewiring. It's a mess. I did it, but I don't know how to undo it. And I don't know how Sarah fixed me. But if anyone could restore Jareth's love, it would be her."

"Well, we'll just have to get those two crazy kids together," Razwel offered, christening the room of his voice. Olina just glared in response. Razwel shrunk back as if retreating once more into his quite shell. "Why is he still here? You have your memory back, Toby. We don't need him," Olina continued, sharply, her eyes pinning Razwel to the wall. "He's not to be trusted."

Toby scoffed to himself. _Kettle meet Pot._

"I don't know, Olina," Azela started, "He could be of use. He may know things about the Brotherhood that you don't." Azela seemed to come to everyone's defense, Toby thought. He wondered if that made her naïve or wise.

"Oh, Mother, you aren't serious?"

"Olina. You did work under the Brotherhood, but mostly you were on your own Speck of Dust. What do you know about the Brotherhood other than Isis, and apparently Razwel?"

Olina flinched in concession. "That doesn't mean he knows more than I do, they are very secretive and the higher up you are in the ranks the unlikelier you are to be known by the others."

"But you were Olina the Iniquitous," Sare said, surprised, "your reputation proceeded you here even before I came to Cannali."

"Fear not the monsters you know by name," Olina began.

"Fear the ones you don't," Razwel finished, gaining courage. "You are right, Olina, I do not know very much about the inner workings of the Brotherhood. I hadn't worked my way up very far in the ranks before I was dismissed (mostly by my own accord I might add), but I was _recruited_. And the man that had recruited me seemed rather important; he had brought me to meet the Committee. I know how to find him, now."

"There is a Committee?" Sare asked with round saucers for eyes.

"Case and Point. They are the ones to fear," Razwel said, flatly.

"Did you know about them?" Azela asked her daughter. When Olina didn't reply Azela let out a sigh that seemed to imply, I'm sorry, but I told you so. "Think about it Olina," she continued, "even if we are able to locate the general vicinity of their headquarters, we cannot just waltz in. We need to infiltrate. We need information. We need Razwel." Toby could practically see the wheels turning in Olina's mind. Her lips were pursed and her nose flared, it was uncanny how Sarah resembled this woman.

"How would you get your contact to talk?" Sare asked Razwel. And it was more than uncanny when Toby found his gaze betraying him by landing on the Sarah imposter. Should he feel bad for disliking her?

"I think his loyalty can be bought," Razwel continued, "We offer him something more valuable than his esteem for the Brotherhood."

"And you just happen to possess that?" retorted Olina finally. "It sounds like a trick to me."

Razwel blinked, "I can never atone for what I had done to you Olina. I have spent many years regretting it, but it doesn't change what I did and unlike you it was of my own volition. I daresay, I do not deserve your forgiveness. I do not expect it. But what if I were to tell you of whom I am speaking? Think about that night so many years ago when everything changed for you. Do you remember the man that was by my side? The man that came, the bald man with the scarlet beard, that was the man that stole your love. In a moment of weakness I had ceded to his counsel. And though I hadn't expected him to be strong enough to make on my Speck of Dust, he did. And before I could even blink you were the Iniquitous Olina. That is the man of whom I speak."

Olina's expression darkened. Toby imagined the taste of vengeance was on the tip of her tongue. "And what does he hold so dear that he would sell out the Brotherhood?" Olina asked seconds later.

"For that you will have to try and trust me. I hate the Brotherhood. And I swear to you if I had any way to defeat them alone I would have done it years ago. If you are taking them down, let me be of service. I give you my word I will make myself indispensible."

Olina stood with her arms crossed considering the man before her. A maker's word was grand indeed.

"For what it's worth," Toby interrupted her icy silence, "Razwel has been very forthcoming with me since I've been under his charge. I know it's difficult but if you expect me to forgive you for taking me and Sarah's memories, and for taking Jareth's love shouldn't you at least consider the possibility that people change?" Toby was trying himself to understand why he felt so adamant to defend Razwel. He just trusted him, more than anyone else in the Maker's Realm in any case. Razwel was the only maker he knew that had chosen not to make as a lifestyle. And in his eyes, that made Razwel more grounded, and more like him. Even if he did live in a shack in the NMZ, everything he had constructed had been built and not made with his own two hands. Furthermore, he had been honest with Toby about his instincts about Jareth. And Toby felt certain that given time, he would have come clean about Olina as well. Razwel had done something terrible to Olina but it seemed to him that he had been punishing himself for it ever since. Olina remained silent although the dark expression that hardened her edges began to gradually lift.

Toby continued, "If you need him to prove his worth nothing can be simpler. Have him help me find Sarah. Then I'll return him to you."

That seemed to jolt Olina enough to solicit a response. "Absolutely not. You are going home. It is too dangerous here for a human boy. And your sister would agree. Your mother must be worried sick, again." Here they go again, Toby snarled inwardly, everyone trying to decide what's best for him.

"Well you can just tweak her memory again can't you?" Toby shot back, watching Olina grimace. "Plus Sarah already let me stay once; she would let me do it again."

"I don't think so," Olina replied. "The Maker's Realm is volatile place now. More so than ever before. What I should have done is blanked your memory again if you think I'm going to let you traipse around the Maker's Realm in search for your sister. And with Razwel for that matter." _Right there!_ Toby thought, his anger boiling under the surface, _That is exactly why I don't trust you!_

"You aren't my guardian," Toby almost shouted. "I want to find my sister. And I'm not just going to sit there while the soulless Jareth that you created hunts her like a rabbit."

Olina blanched. She looked stunned as if she had been slapped hard across the face. Toby almost regretted saying it, almost. He watched Azela put a steady hand on Olina's shoulder. Olina stiffened, stared down at her mother's hand, and Toby watched as some the tension drained from Olina's body. Mothers had that ability.

"This conversation," Azela began, "reminds me of us some hundred years ago. It resulted in you fleeing from Cannali for good." Olina headed her mother's words as she peered thoughtfully in Toby's direction. "I should have given you some liberty, Olina, and I should have respected your will."

Olina squeezed her eyes shut, "Fine," she said with a sigh of resignation. Her voice rose as she turned to Sare and Azela. "But you two are going with him, and Razwel, you will stay here where I can keep you under my thumb."

"But," Toby started, looking imploringly to his only confidante.

"I would take it, kid." Razwel nodded his head reassuringly. "It seems fair."

"Once you locate Sarah, you bring her here," Olina continued. "It seems I'm not able to protect any one of my _children_ from fighting this war. Just bring Sarah home. Sarah wants to stay and fight, at least you'll all be at my side. A mother will do anything to protect her child." Olina's gaze bounced between Sare and Toby, before landing squarely on her own mother. "And one day when your child has grown and has a child of her own, she'll come to understand. All the insanity, the sleepless nights, the frustration, the tears, the fighting, the ultimatums, it all comes back to that messy, unconditional and all consuming state of being. All of it, it can be reduced to one little tiny word. How one word can encompass so much is beyond me. But the day your child challenges your ability to keep her safe, that is the day you learn it in its entirety. Nevertheless it's a beautiful circle, because one day, if your child survives she'll come home, and she'll say it to you back. And she'll mean it, with perfect knowledge for the word's real significance," Olina stopped, and Toby watched as her lips curled into such a glorious and natural smile. Suddenly, she was the mirror image of his sister and he felt he could trust her implicitly. Her eyes grew gentler and kinder as she squeezed her mother's hand and said, "I love you." Then Olina's soft radiant gaze fell upon Toby and Sare. "And I love you," she said, her eyes resting on Toby. He shifted awkwardly under the scope of her gentle expression. He had just met her. "Be safe," she said with a sigh, "and Toby, bring my baby girl home."

* * *

A/N: Thank you HEW.


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